


The Essence Of You

by LadyLazarusDeClermont



Category: A Discovery of Witches (TV), All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness, Shadow of Night - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mating Bond, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-04-21 09:00:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLazarusDeClermont/pseuds/LadyLazarusDeClermont
Summary: Diana Bishop accidently timewalk's into 1590 meeting Matthew Clairmont, after meeting him in Present Day. His life drastically changes after she arrives. He's given up on falling love and ever finding a mate until Diana's very essence and scent changes him forever. Once becoming one, she thrown back into time leaving her vampire mate and husband behind waiting and watching for her return. He never forgets her, their bond or love. How will they reunite? (This story is also posted on fanfiction.net)
Relationships: Diana Bishop/Matthew Clairmont
Comments: 43
Kudos: 188





	1. The Essence of You

Hello. I am new to the ADOW and All Souls fandom. I started watching the show became obsessed. Matthew Clairmont stole my heart and then some. I have all three books and can say I’ve never enjoyed a show or book series like this. 

Because Bishmont took over my mind, I gave in and wrote my first fanfic with Matthew and Diana. I have never written anything like this before. It’s Alternate Reality. Time travel is also in this story. There’s been talk of past Matthew remembering Diana’s scent, never forgetting it subconsciously because she’s his soul mate.   
Here is my idea coming from that theme…

I hope I cast a spell on you enough for you to drop a spell (review) on me in return. If there is enough interest, I’ll add another chapter. Thank you reading.  
Lady Lazarus…  
/

“It begins with a scent of you. It begins with ancient smells never forgotten, remembered and hidden bringing the past, present and future together. It begins with The Essence Of You.” – Lady Lazarus DeClermont

The Essence Of You…

“Willow-sap. Chamomile. Honey. Frankincense. Lady’s Mantel. Ancient things I thought I’d forgotten.” - Matthew Clairmont: ADOW Episode 3

October 25, 2018 (Week before Halloween)

Sister From Another Creature…

“Sit tight. I have to unlock the gate,” Diana’s best friend explains as she stops her mini-cooper at a wooden gate. 

“Are you sure it’s all right for us to be here,” Diana wonders. Her mind is filled with questions as to why she was brought to this place. The property through the gate appears to be vast as is the land it occupies. 

“Yes. My boss said it was fine. He did give me the keys for us enter the house,” her friend grins. Diana has known her best friend since she was fifteen. They met in New York City, at the Top of the Rock. Her parents were dragging her around in the heat of the summer the week of her birthday – August 13th, just before she turned 16.   
Diana originally didn’t want to go, fearing she’d accidently release a spell on one of the massive buildings making its lights flicker or worse. She attended regular school, but had “magic” lessons with witches from her coven three times a week. She had little time for extracurricular school activities accept one. She begged her parents and gratefully they agreed.

As she watches her best friend who’s she known for more than half her life, a vampire, she recalls at how lucky she was to have met her. Diana had grown tired of her parents taking pictures of every landmark, and historical artifacts. She just wanted tour Rockefeller Center, then sit and enjoy the view watching New York City come alive at night.   
She pestered her parents to head up to the top floors to watch the sunset. Instead they were busy in the walking the mall, enjoying tea, watches skaters on the ice rink, absorbing has much history of the landmark as possible. 

“Can I go up to the top on my own,” Diana asked her parents.   
Rebecca and Stephen glanced at one another. “Can you control it,” they whispered. Diana glared at them. “We know what happens when you get excited. And you could accidently release…”

“I’ll be fine Mom.” She gave her father a pleading look. “Nothing has happened in a while.”

“Let her go Rebecca. She’s proved herself capable.” Her father spoke to her mother. Diana smiled. “Remember to be careful and be mindful of…,”

“Others like me and humans. Dad I know. Can I go now,” she pleaded. They nodded agreeing they’d meet her up on the top floor in thirty minutes. She walked up the winding staircase, headed for the elevator after clearing security. Bypassing the lower levels to view the city, Diana meandered to the upper level. “Wow,” she gasped taking it all in. 

“It is rather beautiful I must admit,” a female English voice uttered behind her. It’s a vampire. She did not have to turn around. Her bare skin prickled under their gaze making her hairs stand erect. The tone sent shivers down her spine along with her skin prickling under her watchful eyes. She felt cool not cold. 

The vampire stood next to her. “It is.” Diana still did not meet her gaze. “First time in New York,” Diana inquires being polite. 

“No,” the vampire answered shocked this young witch was speaking to her. Even with the fraternization rules lifted, she knew some witches from certain areas around the World still kept to themselves especially around Vampires because their blood sang to them. “You,” the vampire inquired. 

“Coming up to the Top of the Rock yes. The city no,” Diana explained. If she wanted to harm her, she would have. Vampires are not known to make small talk. If they want your blood, their lightning flash reflexes will slice you open, take what they want, before you realize what’s happening. 

“Sunset or sunrise is the best time to see the city. It’s when everything is quite…,”

“Like the city is thinking,” Diana utters sighing as they sun falls behind buildings. The lights are just beginning to illuminate, giving the city an iridescent glow. “Unsure if it’s ready to greet a new day or say goodbye to this one. I know the feeling.” 

The vampire chuckles sticking out her hand to greet her properly. “I’m…,”  
Diana faces her. She’s taller. Long brown straight hair in a high ponytail. Piercing brown eyes. Perfect soft skin. She’s wearing red tank top, leather pants, and shoes. 

“You’re a vampire,” Diana whispers ensuring know one hears. She connects their hands. The vampire eyes widen feeling her power, then calms quickly. 

“You’re a witch,” the vampire counters side-eyeing her. A grin grows on her face. “And not afraid of me at all.” 

“No. Should I be,” Diana smirks. Her voice is even, no trace of fear. Luckily she was taught to monitor her heart rate and blood pressure to not attract unwanted vampire attention. An elevated pulse, and adrenaline can make one hunt down and kill an unsuspecting creature.

“You’re young I gather.” Diana doesn’t answer. “Where are your parents?”

“Coming I’m sure,” Diana responds not scanning the area. “I’m old enough to know better. But young enough to get into trouble and make my parents hair turn grey.” The vampire chuckles finally gives the bright witch her name. Her scent is most unusual. Unlike anything she’s smelt, reminding her of the approaching autumnal equinox.   
Diana hears her breath deeply. “I’m sorry. Around my birthday, I begin to smell different. I can’t control it. The closer it gets to Halloween, the more I smell like pumpkin spice and those other fall –winter spices.” 

The vampire snorts. “Well it’s good I don’t mind then. The fall spices are my favorite.” She picks up hints of bee nectar, frankincense, mayweed, and weeping willow. Weeping willow is odd, an aroma given off by witches who are sad or alone. This one doesn’t appear to be, or is she? 

“It’s a pleasure. I’m Diana,” she utters finally introducing herself. 

Diana and her new friend chat taking in the spectacular view of the city as the sun sets in the horizon. She shows her photos. Her new friend tells her where she’s from. Diana’s eyes light up wishing she could go there. 

Stephen and Rebecca arrive nearly have a fit seeing their daughter on a bench chatting it up with a vampire. They look extremely comfortable with one another. “She’s not in any harm’s way Rebecca.”

“How can you be sure,” her mother questions watching them closely. “You know how her scent changes around her birthday.” 

“If she wanted to harm Diana, she would have done it,” Stephen explained noting the vampire’s posture. She’s facing their daughter, relaxed intently listening. Both laughing, giggling like sisters snickering at fashion mistakes meandering pass. There are too many humans and other creatures around, never mind the security cameras. “Diana seems to have that calming effect on everyone she meets. It obviously includes vampires. Look at how they are laughing.” 

Rebecca was skeptical but with her husband’s assistance they met their daughter’s new friend. When they parted ways that evening, they exchanged numbers. As she grew older, they became best friends. Her parents, Aunt Sarah, her mother’s sister and her wife Emily thought it was an odd pairing but found the vampire pleasing and a welcome addition to the Bishop household. 

“Mir,” is considered Diana’s sister from another creature. She lived in the United Kingdom, Oxford not far from the Bodleian Library. Two years later when Diana turned eighteen, graduated high school, her parents presented her with her passport and a plane ticket to go to Europe to spend time with Mir.   
Mir took time off from work, spent the summer with Diana running around England, Scotland, Ireland, and as many as the major cities in Europe. It was the best summer Diana had before going off to college.

When Diana turned twenty, Mir introduced her to a doctor friend, another vampire she was close to and trusted. This vampire, a male, was immediately taken by Diana but only felt friendship. He too noticed her odd smell, but found it pleasant. Both he and Mir grew protective as she grew older especially when she hit her twenty-first birthday.   
Diana dragged them both to New York City to celebrate. He was her wing-man, fighting off possible suitors. He kept everyone at an arm’s length. The three had been thick as thieves since. Her parents, Aunts ended up nicknaming them the “Three Amigos” depending on who caused the most trouble. Both vampires, became her closest friends loved Diana and doing anything for her. 

This interspecies mingling would not have been allowed if the Covenant was not repelled. Vampires, witches and daemons could now socialize, talk, date and even marry when the Congregation threw out the Convent in 1900. It was decided, voted upon by all members to allow interspecies friendships and marriages. 

Because of the changing of the rules, she was friends with creatures in every species. She interacted with other vampires but they still kept much to themselves. 

“Diana,” Mir speaks tapping on her hand getting her attention. “A pence for your thoughts,” she teases bringing her back to the present sitting in the car driving it through the gate. Eight years later it still boggles Mir’s mind how Diana can get lost in her mind. 

They pass a plague engraved with, “Old Lodge – Klairemont.”

“Klairemont,” Diana reads. She glances at Mir as they pass through the gates. “Is that any relation to your boss?” 

“It is in fact,” Mir explains stopping the car in front of the house. “Different spelling.”

“Ah.” Diana knows little of Mir’s boss. She’s worked with him for centuries. He’s a vampire. Kept mostly to himself, focusing on his work – a geneticist. Loyal to his friends. Protective of his close nit family. He attends and gives seminars at Oxford. Catholic.

Mir has wanted to introduce him to Diana but always had an excuse not to. Diana is no child. She turned twenty-nine over the summer. He did not “date,” was married when he was human, and closed himself up to the possibility of relationship with anyone, especially a warmblood. He was uptight and needed to relax. Mir’s friendship with Diana had changed her, she knew it would be the same for him.

“I’m not interested,” Matthew warns Mir. “She’s a witch. Your sister from another species. You talk at least once a week, and text nearly every day. I know enough about her from you. I don’t need to meet her. I feel like I know her already. I still don’t get…”

“How I can be best friends with a witch.” Matthew reclines backwards in his chair huffing in annoyance. “She’s different that’s why. You see it to if you met her. She’s fun. Feisty. Alive. Vibrant. An astonishingly powerful if she only believed in her capabilities a little more. I thought you approve of us mixing with other species,” Mir counters. 

“I do,” Matthew grouses. “But I choose to not expose myself to temptation. It’s best. I commend you for this friendship. You’ve changed a lot because of her. Witches blood sings to us all and if what you tell is true, she’ll sound like the London Symphony Orchestra. I still don’t get how you two,” he refers to his son, “can be so close to her and not be affected.”

“We are but she calms us both. There’s something about her Matthew. You’d really like her if you gave her a chance and met her. She’s one in a million,” Mir explains hoping Matthew will finally acquiesce. “You work all the time. Hardly sleep. Some spice in your life would do you good. I am not trying to fix you up. I am not that crazy.”

“I don’t need any spice or anyone Miriam. I swear the older the Dee gets, you keep trying to get us to meet. I rather not. Nothing against her. One day I’m sure our paths will cross one day.” Matthew presses hoping she’ll drop it. 

“Suit yourself. I swear she changed my life for the better. I know she can do the same for you,” she exasperates walking away. Miriam only stopped pestering him to meet her when he agreed to help Dee out of a problem she found herself in. 

“Go and tell Dee it’s no problem her using the Lodge.” Matthew replies staring at the computer screen. Miriam vented to Dee she lost her venue for a Costume Party she was planning for the teachers and kids at the school she taught at. The place backed out at the last minute. She mentioned it to Matthew and he agreed to let her use his house. He rarely goes there anyway, which is where she has taken her. 

“Wow,” Diana utters as they stop in front of the house. “I don’t understand….”

“I told my boss about your Halloween party problem. He said you could use his house.” Her eyes widen grabbing her best friend’s arms. “As long as you don’t make a mess. Only use certain rooms and keep the kids in the room where it’s going to be held.” 

“Seriously,” she squeals jumping up and down. She leaps into Miriam’s arms. 

“Yes,” she walks her up the stairs inside. Once in the living room, all the air leaves her body. “Wow. It’s like I’m in a time capsule. Please tell me he’ll come. I have to thank him personally.” 

“I doubt it but I’ll ask,” Miriam chuckles. 

Now a week later, Halloween Day October 31st she’s returned to make final preparations. The kids and parents will be arriving after school. Diana has been at the house setting things up with Miriam, and teachers from the school. Right now it’s just her and Miriam. 

“Mir please tell me you left my gift there for your boss and didn’t let Marcus eat them all. You know how hard I worked at that recipe so vampires could eat it,” Diana chastises as they put the finishing touches on decorations. 

“I was told by you I couldn’t have any,” she seethes playfully. “I used to your taste tester until Marcus took the job.” Diana rolls her eyes. She pesters Miriam to call her boss to thank him. “He’s busy Dee.” She pouts. “Fine.” 

Miriam dials Matthew’s number. 

“Please tell me the kids haven’t ruined my house,” he grumbles knowing the Halloween party is today. He had misgivings about doing this but something told him it was the right thing to do to help this witch out. 

“No,” Miriam huffs rolling her eyes. “Did you find the gift?”

Matthew glances around the lab after just walking through the doors. Instantly he’s met with an unusual scent of not only pumpkin spice. His heart flutters, two quick hard beats against his breast bone - Willow sap. Chamomile. Honey. Frankincense. Lady’s Mantle. Smells from a different time, place he buried deep in his heart. Scents calling him home – make him want to be alive, burry himself in it and never come up for air. 

His hand covers his heart squeezing his shirt into a tight ball. His chest aches from the pressure. In over 1500 years, he’s never reacted to a scent like this. He exhales and inhales deeply willing his body to relax. It does nothing. His nose picks up more of her scent. His eyes spot an orange box with a black bow. 

“It’s from her,” Matthew inhales and exhales as his hand ghosts over it picking aroma’s from the owner. Her scent is on the entire package signaling how much care she placed with assembly his gift. His eyes locate the tag and widen seeing it written in French.

“Merci pour l’ulilisation de votre maison Matthew. (Thank you for the use of your house Matthew.) Cela signifie plus pour moi que vous pourriez savoir. (It means more to me than you could know.) J’espere vous rencontrer beintot. (I hope to meet you soon.)” 

Her penmanship is exquisite as is her French. “Merde,” he grouses into the line. Miriam never told him she could write in French. 

“MATTHEW,” Miriam hisses. “Is it there or did your son eat them all ready?”

“No it’s here,” Matthew voice cracks. Miriam stares at the phone unprepared for his voice change. He slowly unties the ribbon. The smell of pumpkin spice, cloves and nutmeg flood his nostrils. The smell is overpowering. He lifts the lid seeing cookies. “Cookies? Miriam I can’t eat these.” 

“Oh yes you can,” she warns. “Dee designed the recipe for us.” 

“Us as in,” his fingers grace the cookies. 

“Vampires,” she grumbles feeling her frustration with Matthew growing. “But mainly for you.” Matthew swallows hard. “Marcus loves them. I don’t know how she did it. Her aunts helped. She perfected the recipe using your favorite wine, berries and nuts. She won’t tell me anything else.” Matthew didn’t need to be told, he smells the ingredients. “Try them. She’ll be crushed if you don’t.” 

Matthew sniffs. His stomach growls. He smirks. That’s a first. He lifts a cookie to his mouth and bites into the airy dough. He braces himself on the table then sits unprepared for the first flavor. Highland Stag. “How in the hell could she have,” he wonders to himself. The cookie’s taste warms his cold body as he chews slowly. He tastes every nut, berry, his favorite wine, flavors he adores. 

“How can this be,” his mutters. His heart pounds within his chest with every bite. With each bite the flavors break free into his mouth enticing him to yearn for more. He craves to be this witch’s presence. To get lost in the eyes of the woman – who created this cookie - for him. His heart pounds harder. He hasn’t even met her He closes the lid quickly eyeing the door for Marcus unwilling to share. 

“I told you they were good,” Miriam snickers. His silence is deafening.

Diana enters the room. Miriam gives her the thumbs up. “He loves them.” 

“Yay,” she smiles. She calls out. “MATTHEW THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME USE YOUR HOUSE.”

Matthew drops the phone on the counter hearing her voice. It sings to him like a favorite piece of classical music, each note, chord, melody causing his ears to ring. His ears ring. 

Miriam glances at the phone. “Matthew?”

“Sorry.” He quickly explains. His pulse quickens, increasing his breathing listening intently to Dee speak to Miriam about a costume for tonight. “Tell her to look upstairs. Master bedroom. There’s probably a dress she can use if she wants.”

“THANK YOU,” Diana heard him stopping what she was doing hearing his voice. “He is a Sweetheart,” she blushes. 

“Her name Miriam. I know it’s not Dee,” Matthew questions with his blood pumping faster through his body. 

Diana hears his question. “Diana. Bishop,” she coos feeling a smile form on her face. Before Matthew can ask anything else, she scurries up the steps. 

“Diana,” he whispers finding increasing difficult to catch his breath. Her name does ignites his blood. The warm it creates courses through is cold body. 

“You made her day Matthew,” Miriam teases after fifteen minutes hearing notices upstairs. “Look I better go help her.”

“She’ll be there tonight right?”

“Yes. Why?” Miriam pauses. It hits her. She cannot recall the last time she heard him react to anything like this. “You’re going to come to meet her. Aren’t you?” 

He’s already grabbing his keys, the cookies unwilling to share any piece of her with Marcus or anyone else. He refuses. He’s never felt THIS before and he’ll be damned if anything keeps him from meeting her. Miriam hears him punch the code to lock the lab. 

“She’s going to flip,” Miriam grins. 

“DO NOT TELL HER,” he seethes. “I’m on my way.” 

Miriam eyes widen as the phone abruptly disconnects. “Men,” she pauses. “Correction. Matthew,” she bolts up the steps to find Diana in the master bedroom. She stifles a laugh glancing at Diana’s attempt to get into a black and white dress from the late 1500’s. 

“He said I could wear this,” Diana hisses. “Wipe that smirk off your face and help me please.” Miriam chuckles recognizing Ysabeau’s dress – Matthew’s mother. Once she’s laced into it Diana faces the mirror. “Not bad,” she smooths her hand down the fabric. She locates a pair of pearl-drop earrings. “Well?”

“Try them,” her friends insists. “They suit you. Matthew said you could.” 

Diana eagerly places the earrings in her ears. “You look good.” Miriam receives a text from Matthew. “I have to check on something downstairs. I’ll be back. Stay put until I call for you.” 

Diana nods walking around the room taking in her surroundings. The queen size bed has a canopy for privacy in in heavy dark green velvet fabric. On the mantle just over the fireplace, she spots a silver chest piece of the Goddess Diana. When her eyes focus on it, it begins to glow and she hears a buzzing sound. 

“What in the world,” she utters tip-toeing slowly across the room. The closer she becomes the brighter it glows. The “buzzing” sound grows louder. “Hmmm,” she places her hand over stopping at the mantle. She picks it up. The sound stops and it dims slightly. 

“Odd,” she shrugs. She walks to the mirror in her hand stopping in front of it. “What era are you from,” she wonders flipping it over. When she flips she hears Miriam coming up the stairs. 

“Diana there is someone hear to finally meet you,” Miriam announces stepping inside with Matthew behind her.

Diana turns the statue over noting the date. “1590.” She thinks to herself what it would like to live back then. “What would it be like to live in 1590,” her eyes close.

“Matthew this is my friend Diana Bishop. Diana – Matthew Clairmont.” 

Diana spins around one foot, meets Matthew’s gaze. His piercing green – blue eyes sweep over her in the gown, leaving fractals of frozen crystals sweeping over her bare skin.

“Oh Christ Miriam,” he gasps seeing Diana for the first time in his mother’s dress and earrings. One hand flies to the wall to brace himself while the other over his heart. 

Her breath catches. Her foot drops. She disappears before their eyes in a flash of orange light.

“DIANA,” Matthew and Miriam call out wondering where she could have gone….  
/  
TBC…  
#WhereDidDianaGo?   
Guesses? (I’m thinking you have a “goode” idea but I’ll let you tell me….)  
To all of you who supported me in putting myself out here and posting this first chapter I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It means I great deal you had faith in me even though you had no idea who I was or my writing capabilities. I am so appreciative and hope you leave a review if you are interested in this version of Bishmont.   
Thank you for reading and I hope to hear back from you all…  
Take care…  
Lady Lazarus


	2. Fall On Me with All Your Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prophecy passed down to Matthew becomes a shocking reality.

Hello fellow daemons, witches and vampires. Here is your next chapter. Writing in the 1590 can be a bit intimidating.   
I would like to thank ALL of you who read and reviewed chapter 1. I’m so grateful you enjoyed. Your words of encouragement to keep going help me write more.   
Also I just wanted to say I’m no historian. If my language or some details are not quite right in this time period I apologize. Thanks for reading…  
Lady Lazarus…  
/  
Chapter 2: Fall On Me With All Your Light...

"It’s been foretold when a great enchantress is in the presence of her forever mate, her skin will shimmer, and radiate brightly like sun’s rays bouncing off the waves of the ocean. Her eyes will peer into his soul rendering her mate breathless with a steady thump of his heart. The music from within her veins will call him from home from a lonely battle bringing light into his darkness. Her alluring and captivating scent, will make him crave more. Lastly when they touch, they will forever be joined because like her, they are the other’s ending and new beginning." – Lady Lazarus 

All Hallows Eve 1590

"Would you be needing anything else this evening Mi-Lord," a long time servant of Matthew's questions as he walks towards his bedchamber. 

"No. I am going to read for a bit in my chambers, then once the activity quiets down outside the lodge, I'll go for a stroll around the grounds," Matthew sighs deeply. “I’ll tend to myself the rest of the evening.”

“Be careful out there tonight Mi-Lord, I feel something wicked comes this way tonight,” his servant suggests. His servant leaves to tidy up the kitchen. He's grateful he hunted the day before. 

Today is All Hallows Eve. The residents and his neighbors in the village have been celebrating since the sun had set. Bonfires have been erected. His close neighbors are burning crops commemorating the end of the harvest; days of light and the beginning of the days of darkness. Some townsfolk left the area to not drawn attention to themselves. Other wear masks to shield their identity. 

Old Lodge was a gift from Henry the 8th. Matthew has made changes over time. He’s added rooms, another fireplace, an inside washroom, enlarged the kitchen and sleeping area for the staff. The village has grown in size. More houses have been built with a variety of occupants. With a walk past each house, he can instantly sense if it’s human, witches or daemons. There are a lot of humans, a few daemons, no witches. 

Witches live on the outskirts of town, closest to the woods. They come into town occasionally. Matthew recognizes them not only by sight but by their scent. The witches are aware of Matthew as well. They stay clear of Old Lodge but have heard he has not harmed a witch and has no ill feelings towards them. He’s different in that respect to 16th Century vampires. 

His residence is the only dwelling housing vampires. He’s friends with others by Oxford, around the Thames, and London. They come to call on him after a letter has been disbatched alerting him to their arrival. It helps he's in charge and looks out for all his neighbors. 

He keeps to himself but keeps a watchful eye on the homes surrounding Old Lodge. He does not get into their business, but will offer assistance if a creature or human comes to his door for aid. He turns no one away Covenant - Congregation be damned. Vampires, witches and daemons by law required to stay away from each other fearing it would draw attention.

The humans in the village, suspect Matthew is different, but it is never brought up. He's respected by the locals for his kind heart and generosity. His Step-Father Philippe expected him to behave as a DeClermont. His mother – the woman who sired him, Ysabeau would equally be cross if he was any different. He’s actually due to be home in France the end of   
November, beginning of December – start to the Catholic Holiday season. 

Matthew’s keen eyes travel around his bedchamber. The room’s air is different - charged this evening. He inhales deeply picking up scents he’s never smelt in his home before. He shrugs them off before stepping in front of his mirror examining himself. He has not aged a day since his rebirth, but on occasions he notices slight sighs of his long lonely life. He lost his wife, and child when he was human leading to him becoming a vampire. He closed off his heart to any kind of romantic love. 

He did not want take a lover. It betrayed his marriage vows even enough his wife made him promise go on living with her. She knew she was going to die and made Matthew promise he'd live on without her. She made no mention of him falling in love again, or remarrying. She did not want him to be alone. He was grateful to his mother, Ysabeau who sired him, and his Step-father Philippe. 

They hoped century after century Matthew would not only fall in love again, feel the instinctive urge to mate. No one who entered his life, human, or vampire, even with some careful arranging from his family worked. He literally "sniffed" out their intentions putting an end to it.

"I will not dishonor my vows to Blanca," he reiterated to Philippe during one of his visits home in France. Ysabeau had thrown in the towel trying to talk to him about seeing someone. "In my heart she's my wife. Despite she's gone."

"I understand my son," Philippe spoke softly. "But you promised her you'd move on, live on without her."

"I'm here aren't I," Matthew scoffs sipping his wine. "Alive."

"But you are not living," Philippe places his wine goblet on the table between them. "A faint pulse between breaths is not living. Walking this earth with your eyes open but not truly seeing its beauty is not living. Keeping your heart closed off to love definitely isn’t. It's been over 500 years since you were reborn as a vampire. Your mother and I would have thought and believe it's time for you to...," he stops seeing the glare in Matthew's eyes. 

"If you lost Maman,” Matthew challenges, “would you be able to move on whether it was 500 days, weeks, years." Philippe does not answer. He cannot. Matthew is right. "Blanca was my life. There will be no other. My heart cannot handle another loss especially now I'd have to live on without her."

Philippe scoots his chair closer to Matthew. "Do you know what I believe?" Matthew is quiet. "Your love for Blanca prepared you for this life." He squints then rests his hand over his son’s heart. "Her love for you in still in here. It didn’t die with her. It’s in you. The love you had for her is also. You have so much more love left to give.” 

Matthew wipes a tear. He disagrees with Philippe. But what other choice is there. He rather be alone, without love, then to love so deeply and bear witness to such a devastating loss again. Watching Blanca and his child die while he remained healthy ruined him. As a vampire, an immortal, to fall in love with another warmblood, knowing they would eventually leave him, he will not allow it happen.

He can’t.

Won’t. 

Another vampire as a mate, he even scoffs at that idea. 

Matthew rather be alone, with his close friends and family at his side, then to permit another into his heart. It’s safer for him and those he cherishes. 

“Everyone experiences one great love. Your mother is mine. It's painful. Difficult and life-changing. However when she, your soulmate enters your life, you’ll feel the urge to mate becoming one so strongly, you won't be able deny it. The instinct is buried deep within you now, waiting. A hint of her scent, when her eyes meets yours, a fire will begin to simmer in your blood only she can quench. The thirst and taste for blood, will fail in comparison to what you’ll feel for her. It's an instinct in every vampire, young and old, you will not be able to forestall nor battle against it once she appears." 

“Appears,” Matthew grouses crossing his arms protectively over his chest. “Do you believe my future mate is just going to what,” he pauses, “materialize before my eyes through some mystical charged air causing a quickening in my heart. Blanca was my mate," Matthew hisses stepping away from his father. 

"As a human," Ysabeau steps into the room. She strolls to her beloved son cradling his cold cheeks in her hands. "It’s not the same Matthew. You loved her yes, but you are a vampire, this will take over your entire being. One of our greatest as a vampire is not only blood but to find our mate. Once your one comes along, she will possess not your body but your mind. Every breath you inhale will be about her. You stand here stating you NEED no one. That your father and I, and the rest of the family are enough."

Matthew kisses her cheeks. "You are Maman," he exasperates.

"No we are not. SHE is out there waiting for you to find her, love her, claim her, become one," Ysabeau assures him with a tear down her cheek. She stops him from walking away.   
"Once you get a hint of her essence…-"

"Essence," Matthew snarls louder than intended.

Ysabeau grasps his shirt in her hand yanking Matthew’s face inches above her own. She will not tolerate his disrespect. Philippe stops her stepping between them protecting them both from an altercation. "Forgive me Maman. Philippe." He bows his head in shame. Philippe steps aside allowing Matthew into her arms. He rests his head on his mother's breathing in the scent from her honeysuckle hair. 

She speaks into his chest, "Her very essence Matthew. It's not just her scent that will call to you like a mermaid's song to a lost sailor on the open seas. Her blood will sing a song only YOU can hear because it’s meant for your ears alone. Your heart will sync with hers. She looks into your eyes, a warmth will spread through your body making you feel alive, heating your blood to a boiling point. When you touch, every cell in your body will beg for more. You'll never want her to be less than an arm's reach away. You will desire her beyond reason. You will CRAVE her."

"What if I hurt her?" The fear is in his voice is evident. Due to his heightened senses, strength, thirst he could hurt someone he’s meant not to. He’s not a newborn, but at times he fears he could lose control. To injure someone he loves would be his undoing. He’d never forgive himself.

"You won't because she'll be strong enough for both of you. She’ll challenge you to better for you both and magnify your senses to protect her. Her love for you will bring you out of the darkness into the light,” his mother explains softly.

“What if she never comes,” Matthew replies. “I loved so deeply once and couldn’t keep my wife and child safe. I couldn’t save them. I cannot go through it again.” He sits laying his head in his hands. He trained himself not to fall in love again. To love so deeply then to be helpless and watch them die. He was a stone mason and the wall he built around his heart is impenetrable. 

Philippe is beside him wrapping a protective arm around him. “We all have lost loved ones. Her scent will calm you, ALL your needs not just for blood. Her just being near will be all you ever require to walk this earth. You’ll always hear her heart beating. Her breathing, will sooth your worries. It’s forever. You will want to protect her, shield her, love her, possess her, and even if it’s against her wishes, control her. You will obsesses over her once she enters your life.”

“I don’t believe you Father I’m sorry,” Matthew speaks evenly. “I mated once. It was Blanca. Human or vampire, I do not want another.” Ysabeau and Philippe drop it the conversation knowing nothing they can say will be able to convince him otherwise. He does not understand but one day he will be.   
/  
Five-hundred and fifty three years have passed, and this conversation has replayed in Matthew's mind for the last week. Were Philippe’s and his mother hopes for his future or did they foresee it and her. Their entire talk has only gotten stronger. Their voices have grown louder with each passing day. He takes long walks at night hoping to clear his mind longing for insight. 

He sighs gazing at his reflection. His eyes narrow sensing a change in the air in the room. Squinting he notices the particles floating past him at an alarming rate. His eyes dart towards the window. It’s closed. 

He inhales deeply breathing in honey and hope. His eyes dart around the room desperate for the source before zipping through his bedchamber searching every nook and cranny. 

He’s still alone. “Where is that scent coming from,” he questions out loud.

If someone entered his home without his knowledge, he’d know. For an intruder to enter his territory is an act of aggression he cannot forgive. No creature would dare enter his property without his approval. 

He passes the mirror stopping on the balls of his feet. “Christ,” he stammers picking up high traces of pumpkin, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice. “My bedchamber smells like a pumpkin patch,’ he grouses.

“My brother must have been in here,” he deadpans staring out the window. He had arrived from London two days hence, refusing to miss Matthew’s birthday on November 2nd. “I can only take this scent in small doses.” 

He steps towards the window halting hearing a faint buzzing sound, growing in intensity. The fire from the candles dim before glowing brighter. His eyes narrow. The flames flicker as the atmosphere becomes charged with an unknown energy he cannot place. The tiny dust particles glimmer. It’s unlike anything he’s sensed before. 

It’s unique.

The hair on his arms and nape of his neck stand up drawn to the power keen to locate the source. Goosebumps pop up and down his arms, nape of his neck and back. 

He grasps his shirt over his heart. It thumps not one but twice, in perfect sync with the unknown source its own heartbeat closing in around him. He bolts from where he’s standing, searching the room thoroughly. He's still alone. A quick glance out the window. There is no one there. 

“What the hell is going on,” he snaps. His eyes twitch spotting the air in the room shift again. “Whomever you are SHOW YOURSELF,” he yells. He will NOT be hunted in his own home. “Now.” 

“1590,” Matthew without warning hears. The Voice. He swallows hard. His heart crashes into his sternum not once but twice nearly knocking him over. The melodic tone passes through his entire body. He spins frantically searching for the voice. It’s CALLS to him causing a cataclysmic effect on every cell in his body he’s powerless to stop. 

“What would it be like to live in 1590,” the female voice utters clearly and in wonder. 

The pitch is perfect – feminine, fertile causing his stomach to lurch forward, then twist into a tight knot. She didn’t talk fast, interested needing information. She doesn’t sound like she’s from here. Not English. He cannot place the accent.

Matthew rushes outside his room. No one is there. He returns. He’s alone. His anger grows. If a sorceress is playing a cruel joke, there will be hell to pay. In front of his mirror, then branching outwards, the air begins to spin and whirl like a massive wind-storm. The fast moving air hisses and spits. The candle light extinguishes. 

“SHOW YOURSELF,” Matthew screams standing in front of the mirror refusing to relent to the invader. The temperature in his room drop below freezing. Ice forms inside his bedroom window and mirror. He’s cold for the first time in centuries. “NOW!”

He’s knocked backwards, as a bright flash of orange and yellow light illuminate the room. He opens his eyes. A dense frozen fog is before him. As it evaporates, he squints then his eyes widen seeing a blond woman standing a mere two feet away. He releases a shallow breath. This woman is in his mother’s gown, and earrings. He smells adrenaline coursing rapidly through her body. The temperature in his room slowly rises.

“Where,” she squeaks looking around the room before her eyes fall on Matthew. 

A shallow breath escapes her lungs recognizing him her brief introduction from Miriam. However he looks different. His hair is longer. Curlier. Long side-burns. The clothing, tight breeches. The white flowy shirt, ruffled sleeves including the collar with strings hanging towards his stomach. She sees candles. No electricity. 

Something is wrong. Very wrong. 

She glances at the Goddess of Diana chest piece she’s still holding. “Yours I believe,” she speaks, showing it to Matthew. Only she can see it but the date glows brightly before disappearing. For a split second she realizes where she is. Then pushes it aside. She does not, cannot believe it. There is no way she just time-walked to 1590. It’s not possible. 

“How,” he utters. He has no words seeing the chess piece with this unknown woman he lost in a wager. He was certain he’d never see it again. Questions enter his mind. Who is she? Where did she come from? Why is she in his bedchamber? 

“You’re a vampire,” she breathes clutching her chest. He’s never heard this word used for his kind.

A gust of warm air lifts between them, before blowing in Matthew’s direction. His eyes close inhaling her scent deeply. His eyes fly open. Everything hits him like a ton of bricks on his chest nearly forcing him into the floorboards. His balance falters. He steps back needing the space between them in order to breathe. 

Scents he’d long forgotten he smells staring at this unknown woman…creature. 

Honeysuckle from his mother’s garden at Sept Tours he loves to walk through to clear his mind. 

Leaves from his favorite maple tree he’d tap and retrieve syrup during the harvest behind the church he built in France. 

Witch hazel just coming into bloom when he’d take walks behind Old Lodge in the first dawn of a perfect spring day. 

Antique and timeworn fragrances long forgotten. His favorites all wrapped up standing before him in a vision of astonishing beauty, in Ysabeau’s gown and earrings holding his lost chest piece. 

He feels her magic. 

“You’re a witch,” he counters sweeping his eyes over her fully inhaling deeply. Then words from a witch he met centuries ago off the coast of Italy, flash into his mind, “when a great enchantress is in the presence of her forever mate, her skin with skimmer, radiating brightly…,”

“Merde,” Matthew releases a struggled breath. This witch stares hard into his green-blue eyes unafraid she’s in the presence of a vampire. Her eyes peer into his soul rendering him (mate) breathless. His heart beats one steady thump in his chest. He’s reeling, restraining himself from closing the distance between their two bodies. 

The adrenalines coursing through her veins is a powerful drug. He grips the standing mirror behind him hearing her music. “The melody calls him home like a warrior from a battle bringing light into his darkened heart.” 

“Who are you,” Matthew questions softly but sternly not to frighten her. She’s disoriented. Her blood pumping sounding like a stamped of horses running through a field. He caves to his instincts stepping towards her. She holds her ground. 

The temperature in the room drops well below freezing. He sees his breath. The hair on his arms, and head, begin to freeze. The tips of his fingers and toes for the first time in over a thousand years are cold. He smells her fear even though she has not moved. Her resolve to stay standing surprises him. 

His hands are raised in front of him. The witch’s gaze never wavers from his own. He closes the space between them slowly not wanting to startle her. He cannot have a witch run through his house. He moves closer. Her breath hitches. Her skin shimmers, and sparkles, the nearer Matthew becomes. The music Matthew hears in her veins- a melody meant for only him, awakens his lonely heart. 

He takes another step closing the space between them. Her breath hitches. Her hands fly up between them trying to stop Matthew from coming any closer. Her vain attempt to keep him back is futile. He tentatively approaches her. He stops a mere foot away. Every bone, fiber, cell in his body screams at him to close the remaining space between them.

But he can’t.

Won’t.

Not without her consent. 

She’s scared enough already. He does not want to make it any worse. 

“What’s your name,” he questions gently. She’s silent. “I won’t harm you. You have my word.” She drops her hands. If he wanted to attack her he would have already. 

“I…,” she whimpers as the chills return to her body. The cold air around her and Matthew begins to spin and swirl in a tight circle. The temperature begins to drop again. Snow forms in the circle lifting up from the floor floating towards the ceiling. Matthew eyes never leave the witches. He’s drawn to her. He has to know her name.

She knows his face, voice. 

“My name is…,” The snow, and cold stop abruptly. Everything fades to black. Matthew launches himself at her seconds before she collapses into his chilly embrace. Bright blue light flashes outwards beginning the moment she’s in Matthew’s arms. Her head bounces off his chest before he falls onto the wood floor with her in his arms. 

“Christ,” he curses with her body pressed up against him on the floor. He sits up cradling her in his arms. He shifts her head away from his chest to gaze into her face. “Where did you come from? Who are you?” The beat of his heart syncs with hers. “Merde,” he whimpers caressing the tips of his fingers over her cheeks absorbing her essence. 

He draws her closer as the need to keep her safe, to protect increases. He relaxes as his own body responds to her. “Lastly when they touch, they will forever be joined. They are the other’s ending and new beginning.” 

Her eyes flutter open meeting Matthew’s gaze. 

“You’re safe,” he coos. “I’m…,”

As her eyes begin to close she mutters, “Matthew….” 

/

TBC…  
I promise. I hope the ending of this chapter, leaves you craving for more and eager to learn what happens. Matthew and Diana have met in the past. Do you think she got him feeling the urge to mate? I’m sure you have questions. 

Also I’d like to say thank you to all who supported, and left me a comment on chapter 1. It means a great deal you enjoyed it. I hope I casted a big enough spell so you leave me more after this chapter. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you. 

Also this fic is posted on fanfiction.net and chapter 3 is almost finished. 

Thank you for reading…  
Lady Lazarus.


	3. I Know Your Name

Hello All Souls, Discovery of Witches family. My deepest apologies for not updating in so long. Life truly got in the way. Time got away from me as life got in the way.  
I hope you enjoy this chapter. Merry Christmas. Please leave a review on your way out. Thank you for reading.  
Lady Lazz  
/  
Chapter 3: “I know your name.”  
“I crossed the horizon to find you. I know your name. They have stolen the heart from inside you. But this does to define you. This is not who you are. You know who you are…,” – Moana 

“Dieu,” Matthew mutters his eyes sweeping over the unconscious sorcerer in his arms. Is a fellow creature playing a cruel All Hallows Eve trick on his household? No species, a witch would dare trespass on wearh land without permission. Fraternization is against congregation rules. 

His sharp vampire eyes sweep over the unknown witch absorbing in every tiny detail. She’s barefoot. His eyes widen noting their blue, green color. “Odd,” muttering to himself. A custom from another land he speculates.

Her legs buried under the gown but their warmth is detected passing through the layers of the heavy fabric. No extra weight, their tone, fit, long, trim, and fit. “She’s a runner perhaps,” he ponders. “In need of shelter from…,” he stops. If this witch requires sanctuary, why - how could she just appear in his bedchamber with no warning?

Matthew’s hand clenches around her tiny waist. No chemise, petticoats, bum roll, stockings, or corset to keep her breasts pressed into her chest. She’s taller than witches living nearby. She’s a fraction shorter than the Queen. Wearing proper shoes, this witch would be the same height. Her full weight resting against Matthew, he estimates she’s 9 stone (126 pounds) to his 14 stone (196 pounds). 

Her hair, the long blond curled trestles half way down her back is unlike anything he’s ever clutched in his hands. It’s velvety – smooth like a dress only a lady of good breading would wear to meet the Queen. The moon’s beams illuminate soft shades of yellow, peach, orange, amber, silver, cinnamon, and red; flickering like the wicks of candles. His cold fingers warm as a curl coils around them like a serpent snaring its prey.

The human part hidden within him chastises himself not to gaze down at her face. However the vampire craves to unpeel more. With one slow shaky breath he tilts her head back from his chest. His chilled heart beats once, hard fearing the repercussions but he’s unable prevent it.  
Matthew gazes upon her. “Christ,” he rasps breathing in her scent, impeccable rosy cheekbones, sculptured brows, elongated curled lashes, buttoned nose, rosy honey-smelling lips. Perfect. His hand glides to her face stopping before making the final contact. Is it softer than her hair? His shaking finger tips hover. 

“Merde,” he grouses. His hand spreads over her cheek, swallowing hard. Her blood rushes to surface meeting his touch. It bubbles, pops millimeters from his fingers. The music within her veins echoes to Matthew shooting up his arm, into his neck, directly into heart. The heart walls expand to a breaking point. He steadies himself. His own blood sings answering her song. 

“I crossed the horizon to find you,” harkens between her and Matthew. 

“Dieu,” he gulps. His lungs constrict tightening every muscle within his chest. He tries to breathe but his lungs squeeze tighter. His chest hurts. He’s never felt this amount of pressure. Matthew forces a breath out. The witch in his arms breathes his air in. 

“I know your name,” he catches singing in the witch’s blood vessels. 

“How do you know my name,” Matthew questions contemplating her. “I’ve never seen you before. But why do I feel I know you from somewhere, someplace.” He’s drawn to her. “Another time…,” his voice trails off echoing in the room. 

He watches her closely, observing her features. She relaxes in his arms. “How did you get in here,” he wonders. This connection he’s never felt for – towards anyone, especially a witch is startling. 

“Fuck,” he curses willing himself to release her placing her down on the wooden floor, separating their bodies but he cannot. Every impulse, urge to do so, his grip tightens. 

Her blood pumping through her veins quickens hearing Matthew’s intonation. “You’re safe,” he mutters softly over her face. “I won’t harm you,” he stops not even knowing her name. The statue of Diana glows before shooting across the room, bouncing off Matthew’s leg. 

The statue glows brightly as Matthew stares at it. “How did you get this?” He retrieves it, holding it over the witch in his arms. “Who are you?” It begins to grow warm, then hot. “Shit,” he growls dropping it. He glances at his hand. It left a mark. 

Matthew eyes writing on his chest piece. He reaches for it. His eyes register a name. “Diana,” he mutters holding it over the sleeping witch and himself. The statue tumbles onto his mother’s dress. It shimmers in the moonlight then dims. Matthew squints. “What is my chest piece trying to tell me?” 

It levitates off her body then into Matthew’s hand. His heart flutters. 

“Diana,” he exhales. “Is that your name?” A wave of familiarity warms then chills his entire body. He recognizes this name – her from another time, place perhaps. But where? He’s never met her. He’d remember a witch with this amount of power. 

“Did she cross the horizon to find me,” he speculates. 

“The Smell of you. Willow-sap. Chamomile. Honey. Frankincense. Lady’s mantle.” Scents he hasn’t thought about in since his rebirth. His favorites. How can one sorcerer carry the scent of all the things he loves most in the world?  
His nose picks up something she’s striving to keep hidden in her blood. His hand clasps hers lifting it off the wooden floor. The witch’s hand closes around Matthew’s intertwining their fingers together. She’s shaking. 

He squeezes it. “You’re out of harm’s way. My house is impregnable,” he comforts lifting her hand to his face. Her palm is inclined. His eyes see her blood moving in her wrist where the veins are closest to the surface. Her pulse slows but the singing in her veins has not. 

He closes the final distance between his nose and her wrist inhaling her aroma.

“What the,” he squints. Besides her heart vein, the blood’s smell here should be fragrant, savory, heavily perfumed with flavors like a favorite confectionary shop. But hers does not. When she first arrived, he clearly recalls it, but now is not the case. He detects sweetener levels dropping. 

His ears perk up to each movement within her body. Her body temperature is near normal but chilly. The blood pumping through her body has calmed. The beat of her heart quieter – her breaths have slowed as if she’s asleep. 

She’s safe - with him. 

A wearh’s. 

“Matthew,” his name sings outwards from her sleeping form into chest cavity invading his cold body. The only utterance stimulates his heart. The quick bursts are reminiscent of butterfly wings in the spring from the garden. A quick breath escapes him before he inhales. 

His only focus is her, not reinforcements soon to be at his bedchamber door.  
/  
Brotherly Instincts…

Knock. Knock…

His younger brother is at his door. 

“Brother! Are you all right? May I enter?” No answer. He too smells the sweet scent of an unknown sorcerer. He smelt the power from grounds surrounding the lodge. His brother bursts through the door. 

“Matthew,” he hisses freezing seeing his brother on the ground leaning over an unconscious witch. She should not be here. Their entire family is in grave danger. Intermingling between the species is forbidden, even though Matthew will assist anyone.  
If he attacked her, defending his household, it stir unwanted attention. Nearby witches would come. There’s no trace nearby. He’s surprised they are not headed this way already. 

“Please tell me you didn’t…” Andrew cannot utter the words. His eyes scan her neck for visible bite marks. He sniffs the air for hints of her blood. Matthew has never attacked a fellow creature even with past wars between the species. 

Matthew eyes lock onto his brother’s.“How could you ask me that,” he seethes. His nostrils flare. Eyes darken. “I didn’t bite, or drain her Andrew,” Matthew growls. His eyes soften scanning her face, harden meeting his brother’s. He tugs her closer. The mere idea of her being harmed by any wearh in his household, especially himself stimulates his stomach to turn sour and blood to boil. 

“What in heavens name happened? How did she get in here? Your bedchamber? Where did she come from,” Andrew Hubburd inquires. 

“I have no idea.” Andrew eyes squint. Matthew does not lie. 

“She can’t be here,” Andrew pleads. “If the witches nearby sense her power. She’s in danger. Our entire household is in peril. We have to get her out before any creature notices,” he attempts to reason. “She must have family, friends. A gathering of witches nearby who can offer aid.”

“No,” Matthew snips. “She’s not from here brother.” Andrew squints. “I can’t explain it. Trust me she’s not from any county near here.” 

“Where did she come from?” Matthew shrugs. “The witch didn’t just fall out of the sky into your bedchamber,” he exasperates. “How did she get inside the house?” 

He reiterates the tale. What he felt, smelt. The cold, bright blue and white light. Andrew listens. “She had my chest piece.” Matthew eyes it. “The White Queen. I lost it centuries ago. I told her she was safe – I would not harm her. I still won’t. I approached to help, then she passed out. I did not hurt her. I’d never…” his pained voice trails off gazing at her face.

Matthew hand brushes over her cheek. “I caught her before she hit the floor. I couldn’t let her get hurt – not when I can save her – protect her.” 

The unknown sorceress nuzzles into his touch. He’s lost, drawn to her. The connection between them strengthens. She’s unaware, but her body reacts to Matthew’s every caress, sound, and intonation of his voice. Slight traces of her fight and flight reflex are smelt. 

“Matt,” Andrew musters in a low voice processing the night’s events. Only one occurrence comes to mind.  
It’s not possible. 

Andrew Hubbard heard tales of witches who can leap through time shifting through the centuries when he was human. However since his mother Ysabeau sired him, the tale was a myth. He was “made” hundreds of years after Matthew. Ysabeau found him sick and dying. She turned him, creating another son, a brother for Matthew. They’re close. 

He did not believe those tales. It was recited to young creatures, human children before bedtime. It cannot be possible. She’d be rare indeed. Others of her kind would do anything to keep her away from a house of wearhs. 

“Brother,” he steps gently towards Matthew. The floor barely squeaks.

Matthew head whips quickly, staring squarely into Andrew’s eyes. His pupils dilate fully turning completely black. Animalistic. His hand whips for his cloak laced with his scent. He drapes is over her body tugging her into his breastbone. A strong scent cloves fill the room. He breathes their combined scent. 

Matthew’s muscles flex and enlarge before meeting his brother’s eyes. Andrew shifts a millimeter closer. 

“Don’t,” he growls urging him not to approach. His upper lip twitches baring hints of his teeth. His eyes tremble in their sockets. 

Andrew stops.“You need to let me help her,” Andrew pleads. He will not hurt her. Beautiful church arias are heard the closer he becomes. 

“She’s staying with me,” Matthew warns lowering his register. Matthew nuzzles his face into her hair. His eyes never waver from his brother’s. The blue is his eyes is gone. He slides them backwards away from his brother. His cloak covers her fully. “I have her.” 

“Matthew…,” Andrew murmurs approaching. 

“I SAID STAY BACK,” Matthew yells. “Another step and you will wish Maman never sired you,” he hisses. “She’s safe WITH ME,” he barks leaning protectively over the witch shielding her from Andrew. It’s taking every ounce of control not to come at his brother tearing him to pieces. 

Andrew retreats. “Can’t be.” His places his hands in front of him. He smells her magic. It is unique, clearly not anything he’s encountered and the change in his brother’s scent. 

Pine needles. Greylocke. Cedar, Oak. 

A warning - keep back.

Could his brother be…mating? Is it possible over a thousand years, the urge to become one with another finally claimed Matthew? 

“I won’t drink from her. I just want to help before Francoise and Pierre are alerted of her presence.” 

Pierre and Francoise - loyal servants like himself and Matthew. “They’ll smell her brother. I’m surprised they’re not here already.” Andrew lifts his foot to move. “If they barge in here without warning startling you, she could be harmed. You should let me help you.”

“No,” Matthew snaps his eyes shaking in their sockets. “She appeared to me. In my bedchamber.” Andrew is confident Matthew HAS her. “You will not touch her Brother,” Matthew snarls burying his nose in her hair. He breathes her in. Chamomile soothes his instincts to force him out of the room.

He cannot bear her carrying the scent of any other in the house.

“I won’t. I swear it. But at least permit me to help you off the floor. She should be somewhere more comfortable not on the cold wooden floor,” he explains hoping he can approach without angering Matthew and help arrives. 

Matthew grasp tightens fearing for her safety. If Alain and Francoise arrive, too many of their kind will be around her. He won’t risk it. She needs to be kept safe. Protecting her is paramount. 

“I can manage on my own,” Matthew grovels keeping Andrew squarely his sites and the witch shielded. 

“I don’t doubt it,” Andrew pleads. “But if you don’t relax you could crush her. She’s struggling to breathe. She’s weak Brother.” 

“Christ,” Matthew whimpers. His arms slack. His eyes examine her quickly, noting any injuries he could have caused. Luckily she’s fine. “You won’t lay a hand on her. Not without my consent.” Andrew eyes widen and nods. “If I smell you on her,” he warns. “I swear on…,”

Andrew leaves the room quickly returning with a pair a riding gloves. Matthew nods. “Walk slowly Brother. If not I may strike.” Andrew nods. He walks behind Matthew stopping hearing him growl. He lifts his arms up. His hands go under his arm pits lifting them both off the floor. 

The witch shifts in Matthew’s arms. She squeaks off the ground. Andrew gestures towards the bed.

“I can’t just put an unwed, unmated witch in my bed Andrew. It’s highly inappropriate,” Matthew explains. But his own blood sings at the idea. Could he handle her there, her scent mixing with his on clean sheets?

“I think we’re well past right and wrong,” Andrew points out. “She’ll be more comfortable and so will you. You can be near her not on the floor. Plus we can assess what is ailing her? This is about her.”

Matthew scrutinizes his options. Reluctantly he waltzes to his bed. Painstakingly he places her on his bedding. She sighs when her head hits his pillow. He hovers above, shielding her body before sitting. His back towards the door.  
His hands cup her face. “You’re going to be all right. I swear it,” Matthew coos. His thumbs grace her soft cheeks then cover her hears. Her hair curls around his long fingers. “I won’t let anyone, or creature come close to laying a finger on you.” 

Andrew hears Pierre and Francoise coming. He meets them outside Matthew’s room. They are eager to see their master is unharmed. Andrew explains the situation only revealing information he feels Pierre and Francoise must know.

“Yes there’s a witch in Milord’s bedchambers. 

No we don’t know how she got here or where she came from.

The Master of the house is unharmed but the witch is ill. Extremely.

Milord did not harm her. When you approach take great care. Do so slowly.” 

Pierre and Francoise eye Andrew curiously. Andrew utters not another word before allowing them into his brother’s room.

“Milord,” Francoise and Pierre announce their presence. She notes his posture. He’s sitting with her behind him facing the door. His cloak draped over her, covering her completely. “May we assist you?” They step closer.

Matthew’s hands grasp the bedding tightening his arm muscles keeping her under his wings. His eyes note their approach. “I don’t think you can do much. I appreciate it.” His eyes never leave theirs. They smell her scent and their master’s covering her. He’s marked her as HIS own. 

“Forgive me for speaking Milord, someone should examine her.” Pierre suggests. 

Andrew steps to the foot of the bed. “Everyone in this room is sworn to secrecy. It would be best Brother. We must think of her.” 

“Tread carefully,” Matthew warns his voice dipping lower agreeing. 

Francoise offers her assistance to help get the witch out of her clothing. Matthew agrees knowing it would be improper for him. He begrudgingly steps out of the room. He paces the hallway as a ray of emotions crash into him like waves on the sides of a ship. 

Worry – will she recovery?

Wonder – where did she come from? 

How – does she know him – his name? 

Anxiety – if she is able to just appear, can she disappear? If she left, how’d he ever find her again? 

Fear – If she left, would she forgot him? Would he ever see her again? 

Desire – One look into those blue twinkling star sapphire eyes, ignited a fire inside he was unprepared for. He wants her more than anything on this earth – since his rebirth. He aches to know everything about her. To become one. It’s wrong. Sorcerers and wearhs cannot be together, should not crave each other. 

“Matthew you all right,” Andrew questions as Matthew’s agitation grows.

“Yes,” he clips. His voice is short - harsh. Despite the urge to return to her side, he must collect himself. This growing fire, instinct to join with her forever has to be a fleeting feeling. His blood sings encouraging him to return to her side. But he’s never felt these strong emotions for another either. He leans against the wall releasing a shaking breath.

“If you want go for a walk,” Andrew suggests. “To keep some space between you and her.” Matthew is eerily quiet.  
In Matthew’s bedchamber, Francoise tends to the witch. Her eyes widen noting her tone figure, beauty, scent, Milord’s Mother’s gown and earrings. “How,” she whispers. She gently slips the gown off. Francoise’s white night-rail slips on her unconscious body. She does not remove the earrings. 

Matthew enters his room when Francoise finishes. She is under the covers. “It will keep her warm Milord. The room is chilled.” 

“Did you see anything unusual when you dressed her,” Andrew inquires not wanting to pry but if she’s able to walk through time, there could be something she brought with her. 

“No. She’s physically fit.” Francoise does not elaborate. “Powerful. No markings on any visible skin. In good health but cold. Her temperature should return to normal.” She explains nothing else. “She’s exhausted. We should allow her to rest Milord. I’d like to think she’ll rise by morning.” 

“Is she only asleep,” Matthew asks. If he must utter a thousand Our Father’s, Hail Mary’s for her eyes open, consider it done. “Tell me Francoise,” he voices creaks. 

“No Milord. But with time, her body will recuperate,” Francoise smiles. “She’s been through an ordeal this evening and requires rest.” 

Matthew stands with his hands in his pockets. His heart quivers at site of her in HIS BED. Their combined scent floods his nostrils. She belongs in his room, household, warming his bed. In his arms, at his side where she’ll be safe. There’s no other place she belongs. His head shakes ridding himself of these thoughts. She cannot be his. It’s not possible. She must be mated to another.

“I’ll watch over her Milord,” Francoise speaks. “If she wakes I’ll be sure to fetch you.” 

“No.” He sits in an armchair by the fireplace. Francoise leaves the room. Andrew stays behind for a while then leaves noticing his brother’s agitation growing. He checks on them through the night and the next morning.  
/  
November 2, 1590 (Early hours of Matthew’s Birthday)

“I thought you said she be awake by now,” Matthew hisses pacing in front of the fireplace. As the hours have now turned into days, his anxiety has grown. He’s left the room only when he must to assure members of his household all is well. But they are growing suspicious. He’s kept up with the daily mail, answering letters, running the household, in the hope it ease his instincts but as the time passes with HER so near but far nothing worked. 

He’s needs to hunt, to feel his prey do its best to escape him, drawing life from it, but he refuses leave her side. Matthew left to the room briefly but only strayed far enough to hear her heartbeat and breathing. If he lost her scent, he returned. He did his best to keep his distance but her scent has permeated the room and slowly working its way through his home. 

Each day it’s grown stronger, infusing with Matthew’s, adding to his burgeoning proclivity to form the mating bond. Andrew suggested he walk in the garden to clear his mind. He’d stay with her. Before he uttered another sound, Matthew was standing before him with a glare that would have turned the finest wine sour. If any dared to yank him from her side, he fears he’d rip their throat out. 

Francoise and Pierre come into the bedchamber to tend to Matthew and their guest. Pierre brings Matthew wine, fresh blood, nuts, and berries. Sustenance to fuel his body. He tends the fire. Francoise checks with her master before approaching their guest. 

After observing his brother’s mood souring further over the last two days, Andrew steps in.

“She’s breathing. Her heart beat is steady. Her scent has not changed. Give it time. You need to hunt.” Matthew crosses his arms defiantly. “You last fed before All Hallows Eve. It’s nearing dawn. The deer are around the Lodge. Go. Francoise and I will stay.” 

“I’m fine,” he deadpans. Hi baritone voice laced with impatience. He stands close to the fire staring at the witch. His eyes scan the bed for any slight movement. He yearns to see the blue in her eyes, curious if they match a perfect summer day. He misses her warmth; sinking into his coldness. Every sound her body makes, he picks up accept the one he craves most, her voice. 

“No you are not,” Andrew challenges stepping closer to the bed. “Brother you’re cra…” he stops when Matthew’s standing before him blocking his path. His eyes completely black. Andrew retreats. 

“Andrew…,” he growls. It’s a warning. Do not move an inch. He relents. 

“What happens if she wakes, moves to quickly, bolting to get away from you, me, any of us. You know a warmblood is not completely safe around us. Pierre, Francoise including myself have taken care of ourselves. We have all fed. But you Brother have not. Do you want to attack her by accident?”

Matthew winces. The mere idea of him causing her any harm causes bile to rise in his throat. Hurting her in any way is not an option. His hand grasps the shirt over his heart, drumming in sync with hers. 

“Of course not,” Matthew utters. However, his entire body aches from his cravings. EVERYTHING slowly revolves around her. He has not touched her, held her for two days. Every cell, bone, muscle – especially his heart is screaming to close the distance between them. Even then it wouldn’t be close enough. 

This can’t be happening, he chastises himself. Not after all these centuries. He loved his wife but what he’s going through right now fails in comparison. 

How can only a few minutes of holding her, being so close have done this to him? She’s enchanted him in a matter of minutes. What magic did she weave to link him to her so desperately? 

“You’ll feel more like yourself,” Andrew pleads. “If she wakes…,” Matthew heads whips towards him. “All right, when she wakes she is going to be blooming terrified. She will need us all.” 

Matthew bristles. The only wearh his heart is set on her yearning for is him – him alone. Andrew eyes waver to Matthew’s shoulders. They’re enlarged, puffing his shirt upwards. His hands are bawled into fists with his veins popping fully out of the skin.

Matthew swallows hard staring at his bed. “She has to recover,” he utters to himself. Losing her isn’t an option. “She cannot leave…,” he stops before finishing his thought. If she disappeared, would he survive? He doesn’t even know her but his heart says otherwise.

“Milord she will not be alone. I will remain,” Francoise suggests softly. She reaches for a book she’s been reading. She hopes it would stir her to open her eyes. Francoise believes it’s not the voice she yearns for. Matthew has been talking but not to her. 

Francoise has been in the room almost as much as Matthew. She speaks of mundane things, events, reads hoping hearing a kind voice will lift the vail of darkness from her eyes. It has not worked. Whatever the witch is suffering from, it’s still plaguing her. 

“Brother please,” Andrew tentatively steps to Matthew’s side. “You must feed. We won’t be gone long. If you will not do it for yourself, do it for…,” 

“Her,” Matthew mouths silently. 

“Fine,” Matthew exhales reaching for his cloak draping it over his shoulders. “You will not keep me long. I won’t go further than the sound of…,” he cuts his words off. Speaking – I will not venture past the sound of her heart, her breathing would be worse. “If I cannot find nourishment I am coming back to the Lodge. Understood.” Andrew nods. Matthew meanders to the bed. He kneels inhaling her scent deeply. It’s sweeter now that Matthew is close. 

His eyes waver from her face lingering on her hand. A desperate need to hold it floods his body, assuring her he’ll return. Is her skin as soft as he remembers? Will her blood sing when they touch? 

Matthew’s eyes travel to Francoise. “No harm will come to her. Speak to her. Assure her of your return. Tell her who we are. Maybe a kind voice will help. If anything happens, I’m certain you’ll be aware.” She stops. The changes in her Master’s scent, his heart beating in sync with hers is enough. Francoise retreats. 

“I’m,” he stammers covering her hand with his. “Matthew,” he speaks encasing one hand between both of his. A burst of cold air shoots from the bed though the room dropping the temperature. His skin prickles. “I’ll return soon,” he squeezes raising to his face. His lips hover of her skin. She smells of Lilly’s mantle.

“You’re safe. I won’t let any harm come to you.” The room chills further. He sees his breath. “You are under my protection.” 

“I swear it on my life,” he murmurs in pure devotion. She smells of Chamomile emits calming Matthew. Andrew shifts his feet. Matthew removes his cloak draping it over the witch marking her with his scent. His eyes shoot to the foot of the bed. “No one touches her,” he hisses. “If so…I will know.” 

“Yes Milord,” every one utters. 

“You’re not alone,” he sighs. For two days he’s longed to hear her voice, the music in her veins, to lose himself within her eyes. Andrews calls to him. With a large stride he steps away moving towards the door. He hits the doorway, halting his forward momentum. 

“Merde,” Francoise gasps. 

Matthew turns. His eyes scan the room. His mouth gapes open along with Pierre’s and Andrew’s. White fog forms on the ceiling. 

“Christ,” Matthew wheezes as his room turns frosty. 

"She’s doing this,” Andrew speaks as the room chills further. 

“Impossible,” Matthew mouths. The chilly mist falls onto his face, then melts. Everyone hears…

“I’ve crossed the horizon to find you…,”

“Milord,” Francoise steps away from the bed hearing the witch’s song from her veins. 

Matthew edges closer, stopping at the foot. Her eyes remain closed. 

“I know your name,” her blood sings louder. Francoise retreats joining Pierre and Andrew. 

“How do you know of me,” Matthew questions quickly closing the distance between their bodies. Her breathing changes. “I don’t know yours.” 

His White Queen chest piece shoots across the room hovering in front of Matthew. His pupils widen. “I have no idea who you are,” his voice trails off. Snow swirls around it in a tight circle increasing in speed. Matthew looks between the statue and the enchantress in his bed.

“It can’t be that simple,” he speaks to the statue swirling in a funnel of snow and ice. “Her name can’t be…,” he pauses. “Diana…,” the statue plunges into his open palm below freezing temperatures.

“Christ,” Matthew chokes noting a mark on his hand. Diana written in snow and ice shines on his skin, burning him, then evaporates. 

“They’ve stolen the heart from inside you,” her blood echoes. It’s sweet. Songful. In harmony with the notes, chords he hears moving through her veins. Matthew falls to his knees at her bedside. 

“But this does not define you…”

“Diana,” Matthew murmurs. He encloses his hands over hers lifting it off the bedding bringing to his face. His lips brush lightly over her cold skin. 

“This is not who you are. You (I) know who you are…”

“Please wake up,” Matthew begs pressing his lips to the Hallow of her wrist. His eyes close taking in her scent and music in her radial artery just underneath the skin. He cannot lose her now. The lids of her eyes lift falling directly on Matthew. The snow stops.

“Merde,” Francoise gasps gripping Pierre. 

Her pulse quickens. 

Matthew’s head shoots up quickly. 

“Christ,” he breathes as their eyes meet. “You’re awake.” He scoots closer. He has not released her hand. “You’re safe,” he coos brushing his fingers over the top. Her breath hitches. She squints trying to place him. 

Her hand trembles. “I won’t harm you. You have my,” she notices Andrew, Francoise and Pierre. “Our word.” He reluctantly places her hand down. “Can you talk?” She blinks moving her hand over her chest. “Do you know where you are? The day? Year of Our Lord?”

Her eyes widen taking him in, the room, and how the vampires are dressed. She met him once, with Miriam at his house. This can’t be same room, or is it?

“Brother,” Andrew warns hearing her heart rate increase and scent of her adrenaline spiking.

Matthew hisses. 

“Mademoiselle it’s the second of November,” pauses inching closer. He swallows. “1590.” 

Her eyes widen. She shakes her head vigorously. It’s not possible she leaped back in time over four centuries. It’s a talent she’s never possessed or has she? If so, they’ll be in great danger because of the covenant. She will not risk their safety. She must leave – now. Her eyes close allowing her body to absorb the room’s chilly temperature and its occupants. 

Her response is quick. A rush of freezing cold air, mixed with snow and ice enters the room from nowhere lifting the blankets off her body knocking Matthew backwards. He struggles to stand as it whirls around her, shielding her scent, heartbeat, and breathing from him, and the others. She sits up in the bed, hands out repelling them. 

Andrew, Pierre, and Francoise grip onto each other. They stare at Matthew. His only focus is her. He must reach her, not because he wants to drain her, but to protect her. 

“You’re free from danger. I -WE won’t harm you,” he calls out over the rush of cold, snow and ice. 

“No,” shaking her head vigorously. She’s struggling to breathe. 

“Please permit me to help you,” Matthew pleads to reach her. 

“Breathe. You need to breathe. I don’t want you hurt,” Matthew beseeches. The desperation in his voice is unmistakable. “Diana,” her eyes meet his hearing HIM call her name. Her heart momentarily ceases before fluttering stimulating her skin to glow. “That’s  
your name right,” he inches closer. The wind dissipates as quickly as it came. 

“I won’t harm you. You have my word,” he murmurs. He’s close enough to reach her. She falls into Matthew’s waiting arms her hands and head against his chest. He clings to her desperately, breathing her in deeply allowing chamomile, honey into his body. He listens to her heart, it rumbles against his chest. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into her hair. “You’re safe.” Francoise mindful of her clothing, rushes to the bed, tossing Matthew his cloak. He catches it easily, wrapping Diana in it fully lacing her in cloves, and cinnamon. Hers is now on him.  
Diana nestles her face into his chest. His heart thumps fiercely once, in harmony with her own. Her body tremors recalling a prophecy she heard as a little girl. 

“There is a legend if a powerful witch, one with rare powers is in the presence of her mate, her skin will glow. Upon meeting for the first time, her mate’s lung’s with constrict leaving his chest tight. The rhythm of his heart will be steady and strong for her. The music within her veins will sing out to him returning the other to the comfort of the other’s embrace joining light and darkness. Her scent will be captivating, ensuring they only crave the other as long as both shall live. One cannot be without the other.”

She heard her parents speak of the last part of the prophecy. It only happens to certain witches. It’s never spoken of, but could this be about her. 

“Can’t be,” she whispers. Autumnal spices, cinnamon and cloves enter her nose. 

“Hmm,” Matthew answers. His hand slinks between them, interlacing his hand over hers resting on his breast bone. His fingers tilt her face upwards meeting his. With his face less than a foot away from hers, their eyes meet. His glistening sapphire - emerald eyes soften. His grip tightens feeling her legs weaken. He smiles bashfully becoming lost in her twinkling pale azure eyes. 

Her entire body explodes in a silvery blue white gleam. Her pupils enlarge giving Matthew a clear look at streaks of gold, and silver chords within her eyes. The chords fan outwards, becoming lost in blue irises. They mimic the movement of his own. On the outer edges are traces of light green struggling to emerge. Even if Matthew wanted to waver his gaze, he couldn’t. 

He sighs cradling her face in his hand. His thumb ghosts ever so delicately across her cheek. His own blood sings as her own streaks through the vessels in her cheek to meet his cool touch. It heats, pops, tingles dancing against his fingers. 

“Diana…,” he coos. 

Her breath hitches, eyes flutter, head leans to the side. She nods still wheezing. Matthew instantly inhales breathing her in. Her scent is more enticing from being in his bed for two days. She smells of him - her, a perfection combination of them both. His fingers sprawl across her back, huddling them closer. 

“I’m…,”

“Mm,” she stops striving to utter his name. IF she is in 1590 addressing him so informal would be improper. 

“Say it,” he implores. His voice gentle, just above a whisper. She said it once. He aches to hear it again. “It’s all right.” 

“M…,” she swallows. “A…” her legs crumble.

Matthew scoops her up in his arms quickly. Not once do his eyes leave hers. “I’d think you’d be more comfortable lying down.” She acquiesces extremely weak. He returns her to his bed, covering her with the blankets. When she’s settled he requests some light food to settle her stomach, and a drink. 

Francoise leaves the room with Pierre leaving Matthew alone with Diana. He sits in front of her but refrains from touching her.

“My staff is bringing you some food, drink,” he explains softly. She tilts her head on the pillow looking at him. She sees the statue on the bed. He picks it up holding it in his hand. “The White Queen. Goddess of the Hunt.” 

“Diana,” she utters meeting his eyes. 

“Yes,” he rests the statue in her hand. His face spreading into a wide smile. “I’m...”

“Ma -” she mutters just as the door opens. 

A young boy steps into the room. 

“Pa-Pa who’s this?”  
/  
TBC…

What did you all think of this update? You learned a lot about Diana in this chapter and if Matthew’s mating instincts of have kicked in. Do you believe they have? 

I also changed Andrew Hubbard’s role. I hope no one objects. What do you hope will happen next? 

All I ask if you would like to read more this story, please drop a review. If you also read a work from another writer, please do so as well. We love getting reviews. 

Stay safe. Stay Home.

Thank you for taking the time to read. Merry Christmas Eve. 

Lady Lazarus

P.S. This chapter is found on fanfic.net where I posted it first. ;-)


	4. Every Breath You Take...

Hello #AllSouls family.

Here is chapter 4. This chapter was posted 2 months ago on fanfic.net. I neglected to post it here. For those who didn't read it, here you go. If not it is found there. 

Merry Christmas Eve. Thank you for reading. 

Lady Lazz  
/  
Chapter 4: Every Breath You Take

“I crave so much more than a physical connection. I crave words and depth. I crave who you are and where you came from, your desires and fears. I yearn to know every inch of you beyond the surface.” – Vanshika Pilay  
/  
Early Morning…November 2, 1590

Matthew’s spins quickly, arms flailing outwards shielding Diana unaware of the young boy’s arrival into his bedchamber. His five senses are in tune with every living creature in his household. Since All Hallows Eve, his attention has been elsewhere.  
On her. 

Diana.

Every dream, desire, need is wrapped up in her essence. 

The slightest rise and fall of her chest; his dormant body reacts. Slightest discrepancy in her scent, shift in her position in his bed, trace of discomfort, he’s at her side in milliseconds. 

If the air separating him from her is too great his blood howls to close the gap. The simmering desire to nestle her to his chest, where her body molds perfectly to his implores to everything he’s trained himself against – to not crave another 

If his mate was near, the cravings would not remain dormant. It would stir flourishing instincts spreading from his heart to the tips of his toes. Her fragrance would be everything.

His cold wearh blood chants answering Diana’s music humming in her veins. Every note pings in his blood crumbling the massive breached wall he erected around his heart. 

Diana’s scent from behind Matthew’s body encircles him. 

Merde. 

From the walls, drapes, seeping into his bedding, it’s permeated his entire bedchamber.

That scent - enticing, intoxicating, riveting him to the threshold of insanity. He craves lay pressed behind her, his nose buried where her hair meets her neck. Her scent seeping into his clothes, skin, tethering him to her. 

Swells of Willow sap bend, ripple, flow towards him, trailing him everywhere. He’s barely left her side. But when he ventures out of his bedchamber, willow sap is on his heels. 

He’d bath himself in the waves of honey curls. The tendrils falling on his face or to be the one who combs it. 

Now Diana’s awake. She’s given him the greatest hope. 

Hope she’ll trust him. 

Hope she’ll lean on him for his strength. 

A hope she speaks, giving any information where she came from.

A hope she’ll choose him as her protector. His household is her safe haven but HE is her sanctuary. Choosing another, his cold heart would shatter. 

He witnessed friends falling in love, having children, wearhs finding the other half of their souls. He swore to his family he’d be content unmated. He knew what was expected of him. He was loyal, devoted to his family, focused on the work he did for country and himself. 

He did not crave more until two days ago.

Diana’s arrival, changed his destiny. 

Utterance of his name – an aria saving him from the darkness.

His body, soul at utter peace holding her in his arms. 

He felt needed. 

Desired.

He’s newly sired.

Reborn.

Now Matthew has NO answers to all the questions swirling in his head. Is this his new truth? Is Diana the one to break through his breeched walls? 

“Pa-Pa,” the young boys calls to Matthew again. Andrew is beside his nephew within seconds as a precaution. Matthew’s eyes darken, arms tighten. The young boy glances up to his uncle concern spreading across his face.

“Who’s this Uncle,” the young boy asks. 

Diana shifts on the pillow making eye contact with the boy. Her eyes widen. He’s human. Miriam nor Marcus never spoke of Matthew having a child in her time. She’s certain Marcus would have spoken of him.

“She’s a visitor,” Andrew clarifies for his nephew. “From out of town. Her journey was tiresome.”

“Is she hurt? Sick? Papa’s protecting her,” pointing to Matthew’s arms. “Is that why I can’t get closer,” he probes. Andrew nods. 

Diana exhales. Her lashes flutter chamomile around Matthew, calming him. She tugs Matthew’s blouse. He looks at Diana. 

Bashfully she shields her face in his cloak. Matthew’s heart quickens. He relents reaching for his son and Andrew to approach. They do slowly. The boy sits on Matthew. Andrew a nearby chair. 

“Diana this is my son Jack, and brother Andrew,” Matthew introduces his family. His eyes meet his son’s. She lifts her hand off the bed reaching for Jack’s. He places his hand in hers. Her eyes join with Matthew’s. “She’s a…”

“Une sorciere (a witch) Papa,” Jack answers. Snowflakes appear over him and his father falling onto their faces. The flakes melt quickly warming their faces. “She made it snow inside,” squealing in awe. 

She smiles softly. 

“Are you ill My Lady,” Jack questions. Diana nods. 

“Can she not talk Papa?” Her hand slides to her neck running her fingers from her chin down her throat. She grimaces swallowing.

“Her throat aches Papa,” Jack explains. 

“Francoise and Pierre will be here shortly with drink and food for you My Lady,” Andrew reiterates. Matthew’s nostrils flare wanting Diana’s needs met now. He would have taken care of it himself but he cannot bring himself to leave her. 

His hypersensitive hearing picks up her hunger and fluid levels dropping. Inhaling, her blood requires something more. He’s concerned. He’s not encountered this ailment in another creature. 

“Jack how about you come with me to check on Francoise and Pierre,” Andrew suggests. 

“Can’t I stay,” Jack questions wanting to remain. 

Matthew lifts Jack from his legs. “Jack our guest travelled a great distance. Diana just opened her eyes. A meal, drink, and rest is what’s best. I’ll tend to her.”

He trusts his son, but prefers to not have the others around her until some of her strength returns. Partially he does not want to share any of her first moments here with anyone but himself. 

“What if she disappears,” Jack protests. Matthew opens his mouth to counter but stops. Diana’s hand clasps Jack’s. Tugging his hand she urges him closer. 

Andrew observes closely monitoring Matthew. Matthew warned the entire house not lay a hand on her. He himself was close to losing his life simply offering assistance. However, it’s her seeking out Jack. 

Matthew found him alone, starving, in an alley on the brink of death. Matthew, nor Andrew could not abandon him. Matthew helped Jack giving him food, medicine, a warm bed, and roof over his head. He got well. The household grew attached. Jack exclusively sought out Matthew. Unable to part with him Matthew adopted him. 

Jack softened Matthew’s rough edges. Matthew is teaching him to read, write, and basic arithmetic. Soothes him when he scared. Recants bedtime tales. He goes for strolls with Matthew in the town and Lodge’s gardens. 

Jack had given Matthew a new lease on life. Ysabeau and Philippe met their “grandson” last Christmas. They are eager their return to France. 

Jack is aware Matthew, Andrew, Pierre and Francoise are not human and of other creatures who walk this earth. He’s heard of sorcerers who live out the outskirts of town in the woods. He’s not met one until this morning. 

“Papa,” Jack coos. “May I sit closer?” Matthew eyes lift meeting Diana’s baby blues twinkling with glimmering silver. Lady’s mantle radiates of her lashes penetrating Matthew’s cold body. Warmth spreads through him. 

“Diana,” he rasps. Pictures of him, Diana and Jack as a family flood his mind. This boy could be theirs. Her hands release Jack’s to rest over her uterus. He blinks the thought away of more children. 

It’s not possible. He cannot father a child. 

“Jack - careful. Gently,” Matthew instructs sliding Jack off his lap. Diana opens her hands. 

They hold hands. “You won’t leave right.” 

“No,” she nods. 

“You’ll stay here with Papa and I,” Jack pleads. “Papa is a good protector Milady.” Matthew smirks. “It’s also his birthday today.” Her mouth falls open. 

“Jack,” Matthew rumbles. His cheeks heat. He hates celebrating the day of his first birth. Jack insists upon it. “It’s not a big event.” 

“It is too,” Jack snips. “You just don’t like it because you have two.” Diana stops herself from smiling even bigger. Tinges of rosemary, peppermint enter Matthew’s nose – scents of happiness.

Her happiness is utmost importance but so is her health. “Diana’s condition paramount today. Any celebration we had planned will wait. Understood.” His tone leaves no room for negotiation. 

“I can help you heal and keep you company when I’m doing my studies.” He turns for Matthew’s approval. 

“We’ll take it day by day Jack,” Matthew explains. “Until then go start your chores and studies.” He looks at Diana. He discerns what is necessary to relieve her ill health. “I’ll tend to Diana myself.” 

“But,” Jack protests merely wanting to help. 

“She’s extremely weak.” Andrew interrupts before Matthew’s agitation grows. 

Jack squeezes Diana’s hand. “Promise you’ll stay,” he begs.

Diana tilts her head meeting the boy’s eyes. Even if she could leave, she would have nowhere to go. In 1590, there is no one who can help her. She’s not even sure how she got here. Moving through time is an ability she never thought she had. 

“Don’t go,” Jack pleads. “You’re safe.”

Diana exhales acquiescing – for now. Jack is happy. 

Matthew and his entire household pose no threat. But can she say the same? Even in her weakened state, the cold within struggles in her veins to be known. Leaping through the centuries awakened a piece of her magic unknown to her. Matthew hears and senses it. 

Pierre and Francoise enter. Matthew hisses at their arrival. His eyes darken. Both stop. 

“Side of the bed then slowly take your leave,” Matthew orders.

Pierre places the tray down and steps aside bowing to Matthew. Francoise a drink. Her eyes meet Diana’s. She curtsies. 

“Francoise,” Matthew warns. “You may…,” he stops. Diana’s free a hand grips her skirts. Andrew grabs Matthew’s shoulder keeping him in place. His body vibrates. 

Francoise is uncertain. She did nothing improper. Diana reached for her, not the other way around. She opens her mouth to speak. With only a look from Andrew she stops. Diana tugs her skirts. Her pulse quickens. 

Andrew removes Jack. 

“Francoise move slowly away from her,” Matthew growls edging closer to Diana primed to strike. 

“It’s not me Milord. It’s her,” Francoise murmurs. Diana hold tightens. She glances from the book to Francoise. 

“She recognizes her Brother,” Andrew responds. “Am I correct?”

Diana nods. The only other person who spent more time in the room then Matthew was Francoise. She recalls her voice, and smell. She tended to her while she was unconscious. 

“I took care of you Milady,” Francoise speaks to Diana. Diana eyes the book. “I read to you. Every day.” Diana eyes flutter. Chamomile flows from her lashes barely calming Matthew’s instincts. 

“Brother allow Francoise to sit with her,” Andrew suggests.

Matthew’s head whips to him. “No. I will care for Diana alone. She’s MY responsibility…,” his words are cut off. Tips of her index, middle and ring finger are on his knee. The sensation shoots up his leg directly into his heart, beating once. 

His head veers quickly, eyes meeting. “To protect, love, honor and cherish,” his blood chants. Her fingers ghost over his leather breeches. His skin tingles under her light strokes. He’s speechless. 

“Please,” she mouths staring softly into Matthew’s eyes. Do not send this woman away. She pushes into Matthew’s pants. Her eyes begin to close.

“Diana stay with me,” Matthew beseeches. Diana blood pressure drops. He spots the food and drink. “Francoise,” his hand shoots towards her. “The broth.” 

“Yes,” she hands the bowl to Matthew. Diana is laying down. “We must prop her up Milord or…,” 

His response is swift. His hands just touch Diana. A rush of freezing air knocks him off the bed onto the floor flat on his back. 

“Papa,” Jack squeals rushing to him. 

“Jack,” Andrew is at his nephew’s side weary of his brother.

Matthew is startled. 

“I’m all right,” he’s up off the floor quickly priming to return to her side. 

“Brother don’t’,” Andrew warns. Matthew can’t keep himself back. Another of gust of frigid air propels him in the opposite direction. Pierre catches him before he topples over. He tries again but cannot approach her. Andrew dares not try.

“What the hell is happening,” he hollers. “Why can’t I get near her?”

Cold white heavy mist covers the bed safeguarding Diana and Francoise. Matthew cannot see or hear them. 

“DIANA! Francoise,” Matthew screams. The mist moves further out in the room blurring his vision. 

“Stop,” Andrew growls using himself as a barrier between Matthew and the freezing mist. “She’s doing this.” 

Matthew won’t hear it. “She needs me,” he rasps. “I need to be near…,” he trails off as the air slowly clears. His eyes focus quickly. Diana is braced against Francoise’s chest. Her scent changed. Waves of honey fill his lungs. 

“Mat,” Andrew pleads but he’s at her side. Matthew falls to his knees, cracking the wooden floor. 

He looks at Francoise. “What JUST happened?”

“I don’t know Milord. One moment you were here, the next I couldn’t hear or smell you. I was blinded. The mist cleared and I got behind her. Forgive me for touching,” she reiterates. 

Matthew buries his head in his hands. He’s using every restraint not to pull Diana out of her arms. “The vapors, how did you clear them?”

“I didn’t. She did it after I gave her this,” showing Matthew the scented broth. Sweetened violets, angelica and bee balm surge into his lungs. “Marthe taught me. Milord Jack enjoys it. “If I overstepped.”

“No,” Matthew exasperates grateful. “You settled the storm raging within her.” He encases Diana’s hand between both of his. His lips peck the top. Her blood chants Matthew’s name. He hears it. FEELS it. Her need for him.  
She shifts against Francoise missing him.

“Francoise,” he croaks. “Please, I..,” 

His body betrays him. She must be returned to his arms. 

Francoise extricates herself from behind Diana. Matthew sluggishly positions himself. Her full weight against his chest. Her face into his cold neck breathing him in. Cinnamon and cloves enter her lungs. Francoise covers them with his cloak. The fabric tucked around them. His arms cross over her. 

“You’re in my arms,” he mutters into the top of her head, swaying her side to side. 

“I won’t let go,” her form molds into his perfectly as if she was meant to be held by ONLY him. Cocooning her, she succumbs to his protection, care, coldness. She inhales his spiciness. He sighs deeply. Her magic passes between them - lacing their torsos and lower extremities into tight corset. 

Andrew escorts everyone out of the room giving Matthew much needed time alone with her. He hardly knows her. So, why does he feel he’s waited his whole life for her? 

“Have I been waiting for you,” he wonders wistfully. “Are you whom Maman and Phillippe warned me about all those centuries ago?” She sinks further into him. His cold body becoming ONE with hers. 

“Merde, you smell like honey.” It enters Matthew’s nose in waves. The herb broth Francoise gave offers relief to her tired body. The levels in her blood are returning to normal. 

“With every breath - every move you make, I’m watching you,” Matthew coos cradling her head content watching her rest. Her pulse slows. Breathing normal.  
/  
Early afternoon Diana’s eyes open. Matthew’s warm smoky, warm blue eyes sparkle as he takes her in. 

She gasps. Adrenaline shoots through her body. 

His grip tightens. 

“Shh,” he lifts her closer. “Be calm,” he sighs gracing the tips of his fingers over her cheek. “We’re both safe,” he assures her. He’ll do anything to guarantee she feels sheltered and secure. 

She tilts her head staring in awe into his blue eyes. This is NOT the Matthew Clairmont from her time. Marcus and Miriam describe him as stern, brave, caring, loving, strong-willed, smart, most respected in his work and in the world of creatures. 

Marcus warned he could have a short temper, with little patience for those who did not follow his commands or heed his warnings. If anyone crossed him – or hurt those he loved, Matthew would retaliate. Earning his loyalty and trust was not an easy task, but once you did, he ride or die to be there in your time of need. 

Miriam had been eager for her to meet Matthew for ages. He would never commit. If her presence calms Miriam and Marcus then why not him. It was dangerous still for a witch to be around a vampire. But there was always something about HER that calmed those Diana allowed into her heart. 

If she had known Matthew was going to surprise her, she would have not changed into the gown and earrings. She recalls statue on the mantle. Blood shoots through her veins. Her mind whirls like a funnel cloud. 

Her father told her stories of witches who can leap through time. Three things from that time period in order for the leap to work. Imagine that era, lift a foot POOF they were there. 

Her breathes quicken. She did it. She scans the room and surroundings. Late 16th Century. Instead of meeting Matthew in her time, like it was meant to be, she’s here instead. 

“Oh God,” she winces. It hits her. Coming through time changed everything not only for her but for everyone she holds dear. Marcus, Miriam, her parents, Aunts! 

Matthew rocks her. “You have nothing to fear,” he explains. 

Matthew…CHRIST…what if! There are so many in HIS life who depend on, and greatly love him. 

The convent is no more. Daemons, witches and vampires can be friends, date, even marry. There are things they cannot still be involved in but who they choose to build a life with is no longer relevant. 

Here in 1590 the Covenant is very much enforced. She must keep her distance for HIM to be safe. Not just from Congregation but from it all. 

“Stop,” he murmurs. “Slow your heart rate. My servants and Brother will be running through the door thinking you’re in need of aide.” She watches the door. They won’t dare cross into his bedchamber without consent. He angles her face towards his. 

Her eyes squeeze shut, hoping to erase herself from his arms. She must. To save him. 

His biceps tighten, coiling around her. She’s his prey. He caught her. 

Dammit. 

“Look at me,” he pleads. 

“No,” vigorously shaking her head. 

“Diana,” he appeals soothingly. 

Her lids lift. Her breath catches when their blue eyes join – becoming one. 

He can’t be. Not for me. I can’t become his - . 

“Breathe, please,” he implores. She exhales. “Again.” She squints. His eyes bore into hers reducing her heart rate. “Diana,” he mews. She rasps in and out. 

The pent of oxygen is released from her lungs. It travels his face. His eyes transform from a foggy blue – green, to a bright turquoise. His thumb brushes over her skin utterly lost, absorbed in ALL she’s giving him. Her tired muscles loosen. 

“Now, can you talk?”

“No,” shaking her head. 

“But you understand me,” Matthew asks. 

“Yes,” she nods. 

Her magic pulses in her blood. The music hums in her veins. 

“I have so many questions,” he laments. She shifts uncomfortably. She cannot tell him much IF anything. It would change everything – his course in life. Witches who mess with time can reset events changing the future in unspeakable ways. She will not jeopardize his. 

“I’m in desperate need of answers,” he responds. His eyes sweep over her. She’s in need of food and drink. “First you need sustenance.” His eyes shoot to the door. Francoise is there. 

“I heard her awaken Milord,” Francoise explains. Matthew gestures for her enter. Diana eyes widen at she approaches the bed. Diana lifts her hand to touch her. She eyes for her to sit. Francoise waits for permission. 

He does not like it anyone’s hands on her but his own. But if it wasn’t for Francoise, Diana’s condition would be grave. He acquiesces. 

“Thank you Milord,” Francoise sits. Diana opens her hand. Francoise hesitates due to Matthew’s semi- dark eyes, but complies. 

Diana squeezes her hand. “Thank…,” she mouths.

“It was nothing Milady,” Francoise addresses her.

Diana touches her throat. “I brought more food and tea. It shall heal your voice. Help soothe the ache. You must eat to regain your strength for,” she stops unsure of her next words. Francoise has lived many centuries. Has seen those like her develop the mating bond. 

For some it takes time to realize it, others not all. The Master of her household, has displayed those instincts to protect, shield, seize and mark her with his scent. Matthew’s refusal to any hands on her but his own is telling. The mating bond has bloomed inside Milord. She’ll do whatever is necessary to see their mating complete. 

“Now if it’s permitted, I’ll assist in getting some food and drink in you. Then Milord can decide what happens next,” Diana squints. Blood pulsates through her veins quickly. “Don’t fret. You will be well cared for in Milord’s ar…,” 

Matthew’s grasp is firm. Nose into her hair, inhaling deeply. His eyes unite with hers luring her deeper into their depths. Arousal sprouts through Diana’s body. Shivers and chills pass into her bloodstream. Her favorite autumnal spices overpower her senses. All spice, Cinnamon, cloves, a touch of vanilla. 

Matthew picks her hint of arousal. Quickly she averts her eyes, praying he does not notice but of course he does. He cannot help but smirk and respond himself.

“How can she want me as much as I want her,” he wonders. 

“In Milord’s care,” Francoise apologies. 

Matthew is quiet taking in her scent. He sits up. She’s now in between his long legs. Francoise lifts the drink to Diana’s mouth. She barely moves. 

“I got you,” Matthew murmurs leaning her closer. “Little sips,” he instructs. Spoon by spoon of the liquid travels down into her body. Diana signals needing a break. Her stomach turns briefly before the nutrients of the herbs enter her blood stream.  
A few minutes later, Matthew insists she try food. 

“No,” Diana shields her face. 

“You must eat,” Matthew orders. His voice tight. Francoise places a fork in front of Diana’s mouth. She recoils. Another attempt is made. Diana’s hand covers her stomach. Her scent changes. 

“Merde,” Francoise vanishes in a flash. 

“FRANCOISE,” Matthew yells. Diana’s abdominal muscles twist and turn. She returns. The bucket in front of her. Diana’s whimpers willing herself not to be ill. 

“Francoise - Jack’s tea,” Matthew’s orders. In a rush of air, she gone. Diana’s breathing becomes erratic. Tears pool in her eyes looking at Matthew. She cannot throw up. “Shhh,” he fusses into her hair. 

Pierre and Andrew rush to the door. Francoise blows past them with a warm kettle. She mixes in crushed ginger. 

“Sips Milady,” Francoise insists. Like a hummingbird, Diana drinks the ginger tea. Its warmth, and medicinal properties calm her stomach. Francoise begins to remove the tray but Diana stops her. She’d like to try food later.

Jack is at the door. He enters the room but keeps back. “Is she,” Jack questions noting Diana’s sickly state. Matthew exhales looking down at Diana. He rests his head on her own. His eyes close. 

“Papa,” Jack calls out. “We won’t lose…,” he chokes up. 

Matthew stretches his hand out. Jack comes quickly. “Absolutely not. Losing her is NOT on the table.” 

Jack holds her hand. “My Papa will take good care of you Milady. He’ll see that you heal.” Diana smiles weakly squeezing his hand. Matthew motions for Jack to finish his studies. Around supper he can visit her. 

Francoise leaves with Jack. Matthew’s heart thumps. He’s finally alone with her. She shuffles her head to look at him. 

“Merci Sieur,” she mouths. His heart vibrates. 

“You speak French.” She nods. She’s sad her weakened state. “After some rest, food, and healing herbs your strength, magic will return.” With a tilts of her head, beat of her lashes, she gazes up at him. 

He relaxes. 

“Can you do something for me?” Her brows fold inwards. “Not Sieur. Address me…,” he loses his train of thought. She caresses his stubble. He gasps. She stops. His face is into her palm nuzzling merging their scents together. She’s chilled but not as cold as him. 

“Matthew,” he sputters. He smells her exhaustion. Eyes drifting to the bed. “If I lay you down, your magic won’t shoot me across the room again? I’ve ended up on the floor and braced against a wall.” 

She’s still. Just staring. 

His moves gently from behind her. She grunts. The pain from travelling 400 years hurts. He rests her head on his pillow. 

“There,” he coos. He sits then leans over her. “Please no more snow and ice in my bedchamber,” Her mouth drops. She did not mean to make it snow in his rooms but it could not have been helped. 

He reaches for her hand but she shields it from his grasp. 

She cannot hide from him now. Her scent, rhythm of her heart, breathing, very essence surrounds him. He’s aware SHE exists, he’ll see to it she’s at his side and protected. 

She spots the Goddess of the Hunt statue beside his bed. He hands it to her. The date from the bottom is gone. “I lost her long ago. In a wager,” he begins wistfully. “I swore I’d never lay eyes on it again.” His eyes meet hers. “How did you get it?”  
She looks at the mantle. Then him. 

“I’m certain it was not there. It was lost,” she drops it into his hand. She graces her fingers over the silver metal admiring the craftsmanship. He watches. “I’m pleased you returned it to me.” 

She meets his gaze before looking away. 

“Diana,” he leans over to where her eyes have drawn attention. She looks at him. “I have so many questions.” It dawns on him how can she answer without being able to speak. It hits him. Yes – no answers she can do. 

“Have we been formally introduced?”

She wiggles her hand. 

“So, I have seen you before,” he questions. 

She shows him with one finger. 

“Once. I don’t remember seeing you at court, in London, or around my property.” She listens intently. “In town perhaps.” 

“No,” she shakes her head. 

“But you know me.” 

“Of you,” she mouths. She blushes. He notices. Smirks. 

“Shhh,” he pleads. “Of me,” he wonders. “Someone I’m acquainted with introduced us.” 

That’s one way to put it. He has not sired Marcus yet so no mention of him can be made. Miriam was not in London during the 16th Century so there is no chance she’ll see her here. He does not smell Miriam, which is a blessing. Time must have erased her scent. 

“Odd,” Matthew sighs tilts face thinking. “You are unlike any sorceress I have met. And I have known many.” She blinks rapidly. The flickering of shades of gold, and blue distract Matthew reminiscent of the horizon and ocean colliding. He slides on the bed closing the space between them.

Her breath catches. 

“I’d never hurt you,” he admonishes. She inhales and exhales quickly. Her eyes flicker. His hand slides towards her. She recoils quickly. His nostrils flare. “Don’t,” he warns. The music flowing through her veins echoes. The urge to seek out her touch, sparks his own blood. Her scent sweeter than newly harvested honey.

Lavender. He smells it. 

Diana’s fingers touch him. He’s taken back.

A cold shock of power surges up his arm into his heart. His chest tightens. 

A lavender field his tower faces appears. His favorite. He’d take long strolls here. The scent fills his lungs. Sweet, airy, dulling the pain in his body. When he felt lost, alone, on the brink of falling apart, he’d walk there. It offered comfort and kept the loneness at bay. 

He almost sees the flowers – the pollen floating in the air. The light, delicate petals ghost through his fingers. His feet crunching on the cold dirt and ground. . He hasn’t been in ages when the flowers were in season. 

Caressing the top of Matthew’s hand. She laces their fingers together, and releases a breath. Merde - she’s there with him. His sharp eyes fly open staring deeply into hers. His other hand covers hers. Her eyes are lilac with mauve strips fanning out from her dark pupils. She blinks quickly. 

“How,” he gasps. “Did you…?” She bites her lip becoming bashful.

“Magic,” she mouths. 

“Lavender…,” Matthew coos. It’s all over the room. His entire body is calm. His only craving is to be near her. “Extraordinary.” 

Blood pools into her cheeks turning them pink. She’s shocked. When she became upset, as a child or teenager, she’d pick a favorite flower. Diana would close her eyes. She’d feel herself laying in that field. It wouldn’t always work. It was difficult, but she learned over time, the colder she was, the spell casted perfectly. 

The coldness from his vampire body aided in the spell’s casting. The herbs from the tea gave her the strength she needed. The levels in her bloodstream are close to normal offering her relief. It’s brief as she becomes increasingly tired. Her pulse slows as the quantities in her blood drop. Her lids heavy.

“Diana,” he calls out. He lifts her hand to his face. She blinks rapidly. “No…no…,” he whimpers as she starts to go under. “Stay with me. Come on.”

“Shhh…” she mouths opening her eyes. “So tired,” she mouths. He kisses her wrist noting traces of juniper, mixing with chamomile and frankincense. His lids close breathing in more. Her body temp is below normal. She exhausted, unable to fight it. 

“Rest,” he instructs her. She nods. He begins unlock their fingers but she clamps down. The song within rings. “Don’t let go,” he hears. His face smiles. 

Even if he wanted to, it’s not possible. “I won’t. You have my word.”  
/  
November 3rd - 6th, 1590

“I WILL NOT GO HUNTING,” Matthew hollers squaring off with Andrew in his study.

Andrew had hoped Matthew would finally hunt but he flat-out refused. He had almost given in the day after Mistress Diana awakened. Francoise had just given her some light food the night before. She was able to minimally lift her arms and legs, but could not sit up without aid. 

“Francoise will help her Brother,” Andrew explained.

“It’s not HER job,” Matthew snipped. “Her blood sings for,” he swallows his words.

The desire struggling to get out amplified. It would surely worsen the longer he refused to hunt. His need for her and to hunt were becoming too engrained. 

“Brother, Francoise has cared for many in her long life. I am sure our guest will be perfectly fine.” Andrew inferred hoping it would persuade Matthew. 

“No,” Matthew clipped. His lip twitched. Eyes darkening. “Bring me back spoils from your catch. I will tend myself when Diana is stronger.” His voice left no room for argument. If Andrew pushed, Matthew’s hand would be around his neck. 

The morning of November 4th Matthew walked into his bedchamber from tending to Jack, to find Francoise helping her sit up.

Francoise freezes. “Milady Diana would like sit up Milord to eat. She cannot do it without my assistance.” Matthew flies across room seething in anger. Francoise clears quickly. He’s inches from her. 

“I’ve got you,” he replies reaching for Diana. Sharp coldness soars from her body. He steps again. The chill worsens. He growls.

“Diana,” he warns. “Let me pass.” Her powers are returning. She glares at him. “Now permit me to…,” he steps forward, but is stopped by a wall of freezing mist. 

He bristles glaring at Francoise. Their rapport grew over the last two days. Diana trusted her. “Why can’t I get close to her?” 

Diana reaches for a quill and parchment given to her. In cursive she writes, “I want Francoise.” 

Matthew is shocked. His hand covers his chest. “You can read and write.” Francoise explains that Jack had the parchment yesterday. He left it here for Diana when she showed him she could communicate this way. 

Diana’s brows lift staring at him. “Seriously?”

Matthew encroaches. The mist subsides. She forgets this Matthew is not the same. Women here could not always read and write. 

“I am not poorly educated.” Matthew’s eyes widen. He steps closer then stops. 

Ice hits his skin. His lips part. “Stop preventing me from coming to you. I must be the ONLY one to assist you. I sense your powers returning. You NEED me more.” 

“Is that so,” Diana scribbles. Matthew smirks. 

“Let me through,” Matthew insists. “I can smell it.” 

“No.” she jots down. “Go hunt first.” 

Matthew’s baffled. “How can she possibly know I need to hunt?” He glares at Francoise and now Andrew at his bedchamber’s door. 

“The Lady heard us fighting brother,” Andrew explains not smiling. 

“I’m fine,” Matthew bristles. “I’ll hunt when I’m certain you are well enough.” Diana shares a knowing look with Francoise then Andrew. “Now,” he steps closer but is blocked by more ice. 

“Di-ana,” he warns. He needs for her outweighs all else, including hunting. 

“Hunt. THEN me,” she writes. “Choice is yours.” Diana crosses her arms defiantly. The teas she’s consumed the last two days have not only helped her recover, but increased her power levels. He won’t get through. He steps towards her. Her hand shoots up stopping him. 

“Don’t,” she mouths. She could hurt him.

“Please go hunt,” she mouths. Her hand covers her heart. His need to be at her side is known within her own body. It takes her breath away.

He outwardly growls leaving the room in a blur. Matthew slams the door to his private study. No woman creature or human has ever dared challenge his authority and won. He perplexed it happened and that he ALLOWED it.

Andrew hears an object tossed and broken behind the closed door. He keeps clear of his brother for the next day. He’s known Matthew all his reborn life, and he’s not once seen him this way. 

November 6th, two days later Matthew had time to cool and collect himself. Andrew suggested they hunt. He smelt his brother’s scent. His anger had lessened, but his anxiety of not seeing Diana grew. He made an attempt when she was asleep but was unable to open the door. 

He send messages with Francoise or Jack to check on her well-being. She had not left the bed, but was growing restless. She was healing, quickly. It wouldn’t be long before she was walking moving about his house. Terror rippled through him fearing she’d become injured without him. Or if he hunted, would she be here?

If she disappeared, he’d search for her till the end of his days. 

“Matt,” Andrew speaks his name. “You ready.” He squints noting a parcel in his hands. He had not seen this before. 

“I have no choice. Diana is forcing my hand. If I don’t, the spell won’t break,” he admits. His frustration reached the breaking point. Being away from her any longer is not an option. 

“She is powerful. You knew this the moment she arrived,” Andrew reiterates. “She is truly unlike any sorceress I’ve ever met. I believe she’s came through time.” Matthew is eerily still. “Matt?”

“I believe it’s possible also. She leapt here from sometime in the future Andrew. It’s how I feel I know her already. I remember the stories from Maman also,” he admits. “She’s not strong enough leap to her future. I’m not worried about that.” Andrew listens closely. 

The unease to leave her to hunt weighs on him heavily. Matthew eyes remain on the window scanning his property for any possible threats. If he is must go, he must secure her safety. 

Andrew stands a step behind him. “She’s safe. Pierre and Francoise are remaining behind to guard her.” Matthew bristles. “It is not you, but…”

“I have to hunt,” he scans the grounds for deer. 

“Do you know why the Milady Diana is so insistent,” Andrew questions. “She knows our ways, customs, and needs. Witches I have met do not but SHE does. Most of all,” he steps closer, touching his arm, “she is acutely aware of yours.” 

“I…,” Matthew stammers. 

“For once in your life, grant her approval to lead you.” Matthew swallows. “You want her to trust you explicably. You should give her the same courtesy. She’s willful. She’ll need you more now that her magic is waking up.” His head leans on the window. “I’ll go saddle the horses and meet you outside.” 

Matthew’s ponders truly leaving her until he spots Andrew. Opening the window he hops out. He cannot smell her. Any trace he may not be able to go. He glances up at his window. Noting no movement he hops on his horse and quickly rides off. 

Hours later, they return. Matthew is sated, fed, after feeding on one massive stag. It nourished his blood. They return the horses to the stables. Inside the lodge he notes traces of Diana’s scent. 

He retrieves his parcel. Francoise must have moved it so he could locate it on his return. He worries. He stops at the bottom of the staircase.

“Matthew?” 

“What if…,” Matthew mutters tracing his fingers over the hidden contents. If she were to refuse him now. “She won’t let me see her – be near her.” 

Matthew looks at him. He’s so lost, confused, frustrated, and stressed. “Go. I have an inkling she’ll let you pass. Please tell me you are aware you’re craving her…” 

Matthew eyes widen. His face sobers. “Brother…I ,” he chokes clutching his chest. His heart quivers shaking his entire body. It spreads through him like a fire. His hunger for her twists and turns not just his stomach but all of him. 

He notes a change in the air. A raspy breath escapes. Lady’s mantle, willow sap, lavender, honey drift towards him flooding his nostrils. 

“Andrew,” he pants. “Diana’s music I hear her.” It’s been days since he had. It’s even more beautiful. Matthew looks down at the parcel squeezing it. “Follow your instincts. They are not wrong and not to be ignored. Do what FEELS right. You have all our loyalty and support.”

He rushes up the stairs but is stopped by Francoise. She bows. “Milord. Milady Diana is asking for you.” She steps out of his path. He’s gone in a flash stopping just outside his closed bedroom door. He knocks before entering.

He smells the fresh linen on the bed, and new night rail. His eyes meet hers sitting up. Her scent, glow from her skin, sparkle in her eyes, white specks in her blond hair take him back. Francoise tended to her. Beautiful. He waits. Bows.

“Milady,” he addresses her formally. She chortles. “Do I have your permission to enter?” She nods. He approaches slowly, stopping at the foot of the bed. She nibbles her bottom lip. He looks terrified. Her gloved hands garner a sharp glance. “Cold?” 

She smiles. “I hunted. You won,” he concedes. “My apologies for my behavior as of late.” Her eyes widen. “I’ve been raised to treat others no matter their station in life with respect and honor. To lead others in my household with dignity. To bring honor to my family’s name.”

She opens her mouth to protest but he stops her. “Please let me finish. I’m not sure what’s ailing me. I’ve not ever experienced these instincts before,” he admits staring deeply into her eyes. Her eyes sparkle. Her blood sings. “I hope you accept my apology for my rudeness in your presence.” His voice breaks. 

She nods. 

“May I?” When she shows no objection he’s sitting at her bedside. He presents her with the parcel. It’s placed her lap. Her eyes soften staring into his. “Open it,” he pleads eager to see her reaction.

She unfastens the ribbon. Folds open the paper. She gasps seeing the contents. Her eyes meet his tears pooling in the corners.

“It’s old. Very rare,” his voice soft and wistful. Her fingers grace the delicate needle work around the night rail’s collar. “I bought it in Paris hundreds of years ago. It was impulsive but I had to have it. The seamstress, one of my kind weaved it using the purest white, softest fabric in all of Europe. Gold thread in the embroidery” 

Waves of cinnamon, cloves, all spice flood her nose. Desire bubbles within her. His smile widens taking in her scent. 

“I never thought I’d find anyone truly worthy of it until…,” he pauses. His eyes become one with hers. Her hand flies over her mouth. “I wanted to present you with something remarkable and priceless.” His words catch in his throat. 

“As are you,” he rests his hand next to hers on the fabric. “To me,” he utters only to himself. 

“Ma..,” she begins. 

“Shhh,” he must get this out. “I’d be honored Milady if you accepted this token of my affections, devotion, friendship, and loyalty only to you.”

Her heart quickens, flooding her blood stream with a melody he’s never heard. Lavender, willow sap, rose, wisteria, jasmine enter his body. In shock she looks at him. Her heart races with uncertainty. She sniffles. He hands her the quill and paper.  
She looks between the night rail, Matthew, quill and paper. 

“I’ve overstepped and upset you,” he fears retreating. “Think about it. I’ll leave you.” 

He steps away. His heart breaking.

“Matthew don’t go,” she speaks clearly. He whips around. He could not have mistaken it. It hits him. She’s standing. “Matthew I’ll say anything you want but don’t leave me. Matthew…,” she wheezes. 

In less than a second he’s at her side catching her as she pitches forward. A gust of chilly air emits between them shooting outwards. White mist clings to the walls and drapes. 

“Diana,” her hands unfurl on his chest. The air chills his cheeks. His heart sync with hers. “You spoke.” 

“I wanted your name to be the first word you heard,” she replies meeting his eyes. “Matthew,” she utters with her own longing. A massive smile graces his lips. Her heart flutters. 

His legs weaken. He pulls her closer. His gloved hand cups her cheek. “You’re standing.” She snickers. 

“Yes and talking,” he opens his mouth to ask but she shushes him. “This morning my voice returned.” His chest rumbles. “I’ve only spoken in front of you.”

“Diana,” he rasps relieved. “I have so many questions.” 

“I know,” she squeaks. The chill in the room is gone. The cold wind blows past the window. “I’ll answer what I can but first can you do something for me.” 

“Name it.” He bends his knees, lowering his face closer to hers. Her scent more than pleases him. 

“Window. Can you walk me to it? I need to see. Feel the cold on my face. The chill in the air…” her voice tense but hopeful. “I can’t make it without you Matthew.” 

“As long as it’s me at your side, I’ll go anywhere you wish,” he admits. She sighs softly. She wobbles slightly when he shifts his body to assist her. One arm remains snug around her back. His hand on her hip. Perfect he mutters to himself. 

“Put your arm around me,” he gently suggests. She hesitates. “It’s my turn to lead.” His blue eyes brilliant daring her to protest. Diana slides her arm under Matthew’s gripping his torso. She nestles their sides together. His coldness transfers through his layered clothing into her body.

Her magic sparks from her into Matthew’s body. His nose is overpowered with willow sap, frankincense, lady’s mantle, and honey. His pupils dilate. Muscles tighten. His arousal evident. All he can think about is bringing her pleasure. His eyes rake over her memorizing every curve.

“Window,” she squeezes his hip. 

“Give me your hand,” he asks giving her his free hand to grasp in front of them both. 

“You best not let go,” she teases noting his subtle changes in his body. 

“Not on my life,” he admits staring down at her. “Hand Diana. I’ve got you.” 

Hesitantly their hands connect. A gust of bright white fog fans out between them blowing the window open. Starting at their feet it twirls towards the ceiling. It fans outwards encircling the entire room. 

“Extraordinary,” he coos glancing at his room. “It’s flurrying in my bedchamber.” The flakes of snow fall onto his face. It’s melted before hitting the floor. He monitors her temperature. She’s not cold. “How?”

“Magic,” she quips. “I’m a special kind of witch.” 

“Dieu you are indeed. Come on,” he urges her taking a step at the time. When they reach the sill, wind opens the shutters. Outside air rushes through the opening into Diana and Matthew. He stands directly behind her, ensuring she’s safe and all his. Her hands on the sill. 

“Hand over mine,” she instructs him with a gleam in her eyes. His torso presses against her back weaving them together. His cloak falls forwards keeping their scents blended together. Their hands join. Fingers interlocked. She leans against his chest finally staring at outside. 

“Christ I really did it,” she whispers. “I’m in…

“1590 yes,” Matthew murmurs. She meets his gaze. “You leapt through the centuries to find me. You know my name. No one stole my heart from inside me,” he repeats the words of the song he first heard on All Hallows Eve. 

“I…,” he heard it. How? 

“Shh,” his voice is calm realizing he craves so much more than this physical connection. He craves her words and depth. “Diana I crave who you are and where you came from, your desires and fears. I yearn to know every inch of you beyond the surface. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes.”

She’s utterly speechless. Instead of words the chill radiating from within gives Matthew his answer. His smiles pressing his forehead to her brow. His eyes close listening to her heart. It flutters each time his fingers grace her hands. 

They are lost in each other, not hearing Andrew and Jack at the door. 

“Uncle?” Andrew looks at his nephew. “Papa fancies Milady Diana doesn’t he?”

“Aye he does Jack.”

“So she’ll become my Mum,” he questions. “And so much more to Papa? To the entire family.”

“What does your heart tell you?” He nods. Matthew whips his cloak around them, securing Diana to him. He tugs her closer. Andrew notes his scent. “Then you have your answer. Come your Papa isn’t going to share yet. We’ll return soon.”

Matthew senses their retreat and remains with Diana in the window. Diana is awake, healing, talking and in his arms. He’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her. For the first time in his immortal life he’s at peace. 

Perfect peace.  
/  
TBC…

Yes this is where I am going to leave this chapter. Since the cold weather and holiday season is upon us, I’ll do my best to post much sooner. Her time in the past with Matthew is only beginning. I hope you keep craving for more of this tale especially since season 2 is two weeks away. 

As always I’m truly grateful for the support this story and I have received. I’m eager to hear your thoughts so please drop a wine glass, or Christmas Cookies on your way out if you crave more. 

Lady Lazz


	5. Sparks Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One Day you meet someone that will ignite a SPARK within you that will not only awaken your bound power, but will awaken a side of you, you never knew existed. When you find that person, they will become your forever.” -Lady Lazarus

**Hello my darlings. I posted this chapter Christmas Eve on Fanfic.net but forgot to upload it here for those who have not read it. I hope 2021 finds you all well and healthy and eagerly awaiting the ADOW premiere this upcoming weekend in many countries around the World. I hope you enjoy this chapter. 1590 is quite interesting for me as a writer. I'm learning much. **

**So off to 1590 you go and hope to hear your thoughts afterwards. **

**Thank you for reading. **

**Lady Lazz**

**/**

**Chapter 5: Sparks Fly...**

**November 6th…**

Diana is unsure of how much time has elapsed since her and Matthew have been standing at the window. Minutes, hours could have passed but it makes no matter. This – HIM feels right.

She should not be in 1590, but here she is.

How’d she get here?

Why now?

When will she return to her Present? 

How will her very presence in 1590 affect those she loves in the Present and Past? Especially Matthew, Jack, this entire household.

So many lives will be altered because she lifted her foot, thought about 1590 and appeared in Matthew’s bedchamber. She’s thought about the past before and stayed the Present. What was different?

Diana thinks. Matthew’s mother’s gown, earrings. The Statue.

There’s more. But what? 

Her father spoke to her as a teenager about witches leaping through time. She had history and had met Miriam. She was helping her study. _“There are witches can leap backwards a few days, years. Others decades,” he explained. _

_“Are their witches who can leap back and forth through the centuries like hundreds of years,” she asked her parents curiously. _

_“Rare ones with unique powers,” her mother chimes in glancing at Stephen. “Diana, the witch would be powerful and rarity. We are not supposed to mess with time. She can affect the future of all she loves. A few days is one thing. But centuries,” Rebecca sighs. “She’d be sought after.” _

_“No one in recent history can do it Diana,” Stephen explains. “Witches who have this ability are kept track of. Our leaders see to it. It’s not an ability I harness. A distant relative perhaps.” _

_“Just imagine the things we could see. Do? I’ve struggled with history but to actually see it myself,” Diana laments. “I hate memorizing dates, times, and facts that will have no impact on who I’ll become as an adult.” _

_“These history events did impact your life.” Diana huffs. “Think about the covenant. Imagine for a minute if it was still enforced. How different would your life be without Miriam? You two could not intermingle.” _

_“Covenant or not, we’d still be best friends. I’d hide my friendship with her in order to protect her if I had to,” Diana snips back. “She’s my sister from another creature. Nine cronies on a council would not stop me.” _

_Stephen smiles. Diana is just as protective of Miriam as she is of her. _

_Rebecca interjects, “The events in the past, whether we were around for it or not affects us. If leaping through time is an ability you have, we’ll know by the time your 21. It has not manifested yet so I think we’re safe,” she sighs relieved. _

_“What if I can leap by accident? How would I ever get home,” Diana wonders and fears. She’s heard of horror stories of this happening. _

_“You would need powerful spells, the belief in yourself that you can do it, and most of all…,” Stephen stops looking at Rebecca. _

_“All?” _

_“Stephen she’s too young,” Rebecca warns. “She’s only 17.” _

_“Rebecca, she’s asking. We said we would not lie and keep things from her.” Her mother sits. “If I had met you when I was 21, I’d have known you were the one. You made me realize my true power. I could do things I thought we’re not possible,” Stephen brings Rebecca close. “It’s an important part of how my family’s magic operates. It was bound until I met you.” _

_“Huh. What do you mean Mom unbound your magic?” _

_Rebecca nods for Stephen to continue. _

_“When my family falls in love,” Stephen pauses, “when we mate it’s for life Diana.” _

_“Mate? I don’t get it.”_

_Rebecca chortles. “When your Dad found true love in its purest form, his true power emerged. He harnessed his family’s magic bound within him. Your father is powerful but would not have been if it was not for me. My love changed him. I released his powers.” _

_“Your loyalty, belief, devotion, and love did,” Stephen kisses her softly. “And other things,” he whispers into her ear. _

_She blushes. “Stephen stop.” _

_“Never,” he holds her hands. “Without you, I’d be nothing.” Rebecca sniffles. _

_“Guys…,” Diana grimaces. _

_“It’s true Diana.” Stephen kneels before her. “Your mother’s love, protection, and our mutual attraction to each other brought out the dormant, bound magic. My ancestors binds our magic so we can only tap into our true power when we are mated. It will happen to you.” _

_“I doubt it,” she huffs. _

_“It will. He’ll be the other half of your heart,” he kisses Rebecca’s wedding rings. “It’s not just love Diana. It’s life changing. Extraordinary. Powerful. Painful. Love. You feel it in every part of your body. Without him, you will not be able to embrace the magic sleeping inside you.” _

_“I’m young Dad. I doubt I’ll find him when I’m 21.” Her arms cross in defiance. _

_“I found your mother in college.” _

_“I can still date right,” Diana questions. _

_Stephen rolls his eyes while Rebecca laughs. “Yes unfortunately. When you meet HIM you’ll know.” _

_“How?” _

_Rebecca holds her hands. “Magic is in the heart Diana. He is the key. Your powers will soar when he’s near. It will SPARK.”_

_“Spark? Like electricity?” _

_Rebecca laughs. “Oh yes,” she blushes at her father’s. “One Day you meet someone that will ignite a SPARK within you that will not only awaken your bound power, but will awaken a side of you, you never knew existed. When you find that person, they will become your forever.”_

_Diana squints. _

_“He’ll be able to feel it, smell it, and see it when it happens. That’s how you’ll know he’s your mate. He’ll change who you are, who you will become in order to be with him forever. Remember our tales.” _

_Stephen eyes narrow thinking of his wife’s words. They have been married for nearly two decades. She is saying this to Diana for a reason. _

_“What if he’s already mated? Some of Grand-mom’s friends remained single,” she sniffles upset. “Not every creature has a perfect mate out there just waiting. No fairy Godmother is going to bring him to me. Life is not a fairy tale where there a handsome prince with dark hair and gorgeous eyes is pining for me in his castle.” _

_Rebecca nestles Diana into her. “Oh honey,” she coos into her hair staring at Stephen. If she only believes, anything is possible. “Your person is out there. His instincts will tell him you are his mate.” Is her mate here already? Stephen’s eyes widen. Is it possible? “Once he finds you, there will be no other. His entire focus will be on you. Nothing will keep him from you. He’ll have to trust his gut. Because…,”_

_“It’s never wrong if you listen to it. Right,” Diana questions. Her mother nods. They leave her to finish her schoolwork just as Miriam arrives to help her study for a history exam. Her mother watches them closely leaning on Stephen. Their daughter is a unique witch with extraordinary powers. This they know already._

**/**

Her mind circles back to her and Matthew as a gust of frigid cold air shoots into the open window circling Diana. The bed’s blanket offers protection. The winter wind enters her bloodstream. Matthew’s strong arms, the cold passing from him into her, stimulates her dormant powers.

_It sparks._

Slowly she pivots in his arms to look into his eyes fisting his white shirt. Francoise’s meal and tea gives her much strength. “I want to walk to you.”

His eyes darken. “Absolutely not.”

“I won’t injure myself,” he moves closer. Her gloved hand on his cheek muffles his objections. His thick blood rushes meeting her hand. It warms in his cheek

“I won’t fall_,” _she stresses staring deeply into his eyes caressing his skin. “Trust me.”

“You are not ready.” His arms tighten.

“I am so. Move your stubborn ass back and let me try,” she clips challenging his authority. No creature dare speak take this tone with him. Her hands grip his shirt, pulling him into her. Her strength is surprise.

“The moment I sense something off, you are right here,” he gestures to how to they are standing. “Are we understood?”

Her hands fly to her hips. “I can most certainly walk two feet to you.”

“I rather not permit it,” he grouses. 

“Step backwards and watch,” she pleads.

Her confidence convinces Matthew. “If you fall,” he murmurs pressing his forehead to hers needing the skin to skin contact. It’s soft. Her blood sings, sizzles and pops. Her magic spikes. The surge in powers flows from her into the room.

_Another spark. _

“Please,” she begs afraid. He’s too close. Adrenaline pours into her system. 

“Calm down. I smell your flee response and your magic spiking,” he insists. Her pulse slows and breathes deeply. “Better,” a guttural sigh escapes him before he releases her. His eyes never waver from hers.

“Don’t move unless I tell you.” Two feet away he stops. She shuffles her feet towards him. She almost makes it until she pitches forward.

He catches her, scooping her up quickly. Her arms rest on his shoulders. She’s light as the air. Their eyes lock. “Diana,” he coos already noting changes inside her body. Her magic dancing. Her scent overwhelms him. He’s dizzy. His mind is in shambles.

_“All I see is you,”_ he mutters to himself.

“You belong back in my bed.” His skin warms at the implication of his words. He hasn’t desired a woman since his rebirth – until her. Body parts, long dormant shift in his trousers. He give all he has to be the one to lay with her, a desired communion to her most of all. He’ll settle for laying with her in his arms. 

“Couch. By the fire place,” she implores.

“You need rest,” he counters gazing softly into her eyes. He lifts her closer needing her scent. His face is inches from hers. “I can tell by your scent.”

“I rather be sitting then laying on my back.” He heads to the bed. Chilly air stops him. His face tightens, growling silently. “I won’t get off the couch. I’ll stay if you are with me.”

“Nothing will separate me from you.” He acquiesces. “If you begin to tire I’m carrying you back to my bed. Do you we have an agreement?” 

**/**

He sits her on the couch. Unfastening his cloak he drapes it over her covering her fully. Cinnamon and cloves drift into her nose. He smiles noting her body’s reaction. She tucks it around her body.

He’s beside her. “It’s starting to smell like you,” he quips.

“Is that bad,” she inquires without mentioning their scents are becoming one. Leaning back she gazes into his eyes. His eyes twinkle lost in hers. Their scent is all over the room.

“I never permitted my scent to be on anyone. My kind are extremely territorial and,” his voice strains. He’s marked her. “But with you,” he admonishes how easy it was cover her with his scent. Honey, Lady’s mantle, frankincense drifts into the air, going into his nose. “It feels,” lifting her hand to his nose. It overwhelms him.

He turns her hand exposing her wrist. Her blood vessels expand and contract. “Yes,” she pants feeling dizzy.

“Real. So alive. I cannot stop myself from reaching for you,” he admits. Her heart stammers. The song with his name within rings clearly.

His lips press to her pulse point. The blood sizzles. She’s cold but her blood heats for him. _Desire. _The melody echoing. Sparks dance above their heads. His eyes close nuzzling his face into both wrists.

“Matthew,” she mewls. Her powers strengthen. _When your mate has found you, the magic within will stir, flooding your system with untapped energy _her parents words ring out_._ _“IT WILL SPARK AND HE’LL FEEL IT.”_

Her attraction for Matthew warms her body. Her pulse sputters. Her breathing erratic. The arousal washes over him, flooding his senses. His eyes pop open.

“Diana,” he shifts closer. His body cries out to fulfill his craving for her. When other women have wanted to bed him by their looks or smell it, he knew. But her, he FEELS it, smells it in the darkest caverns of himself he did not think was possible. It’s drumming increasing in intensity.

It’s _sparking _in his blood.

Ysabeau and Phillippe cautioned when his mate appeared her scent would be an aphrodisiac. It overpower him, feeling faint. Blissfully high. His heart would thunder awake. She’d enchant him. A fierce, strong storm would surge into his body. Protectiveness and possessiveness would control his every action. He’d lose himself within every inch of her. 

“Your scent,” he gulps aching to truly touch her. “I am wash around you. My every instinct is in such a state of disarray.”

She squeezes his hand nimbly. He raises it to his face, nuzzling into her touch. She whimpers. How can she be his? Isn’t not possible? Is HE who her parents told her about? Could he be hers…? Is she worthy?

“You are going to drive me to the point of madness aren’t you?” It’s all of her. How her eyes sweep over his body. Her smile. Her sighs. Voice tones. Her touch either soothes the beast within or he craves to lay with her in his arms forever.

Her essence.

“I feared you’d never wake or hear your voice,” the words pour out. Her lips curve into a sad smile.

“I’m all right,” she assures him.

He nods solemnly. “The melody when I touch your skin, or hold you,” he utters mystified. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard. Unique. Enchanting. I can even hear words.” Every note coursing through her veins is meant for him. “It soothes me.”

She snickers. “I have a knack for it.”

His free hand snakes behind her tugging her closer. “Promise me something. Don’t not use your magic banish me from your presence again.” He cradles her cheek silencing her protests.

She gasps. Craving him. Coldness floods her body. His face hovers just above hers. His gloved thumb caresses her cheek so softly. Her blood _sings._ All his life he longed for someone to response to his touch like this. A soft wistful smile grows on his lips.

“If your condition has worsened. Not seeing you. Smelling your scent. Hearing your heart or breathing,” his voice crumbles. Tears pool within his eyes. “I was going mad. I knew where you were but couldn’t find you.”

She whimpers. “You needed to hunt.”

His hand falls from her face, caressing her arm stopping on her elbow, shielding her. “I’d never hurt you. Feed or keep you in my trawl. The thought makes me ill. Any harm coming to you from my own hand or any other I…,” the words catch in his throat.

“_I’ve never felt this protective over anyone,”_ he mouths to himself. Protectiveness floods his veins boiling his blood. He’d kill anyone who wishes her harm. He’d see to their death if a hair was broken on her head.

She cups his cheek. “Look at me.” His eyes squeeze tighter. She’s six inches from his face. “Please,” she implores. Her breath floods his nostrils. Chamomile and honey. His eyes open. His arms tighten. “I’m safe with you.”

“Why make me go and stop me from seeing you?” His voice breaks. “You needed me Diana and you banished me?” He’s anger is visible.

“One, you needed to hunt. It was necessary so you don’t confuse your instincts.” She will not permit Matthew to confuse his desire and cravings.

“You do understand our kind?” She nods. “Why then if you trust I won’t harm you.”

“My magic is returning. Other things too. I know you sense it,” her lashes flutter. Her cheeks redden. “Being here – with you,” she’s admits lost in his eyes. The powers hibernating deep inside hum in response.

“And?”

“I don’t want you harmed,” wiggling her gloved fingers.

“The gloves.” She nods. “They help control your powers.”

“They help me keep YOU safe.” His gloved fingers press into her wrist. There is a difference. Skin to skin contact her magic spikes, coming out quickly each time he’s kissed her wrist.

“Do these gloves help conceal your magic?” The question is innocent but it causes her to snicker.

“Unless I must,” she shrugs. She is a rare witch. She has always had to be careful who she showed her magic too.

With Matthew, she is not afraid.

He ghosts his fingers just over the surface of gloves. Her skin chills. “Will I ever be able to touch your skin? I mean truly touch you. While you were unconscious I was able.” Then he felt her power.

The idea of not being able to truly be close to her, full skin to skin contact – becoming one, not consummating their bond his heart crumbles. He will not risk losing her. At this moment he receive any gift she’s willing to bestow on him. 

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “I won’t allow myself to hurt you.”

Her father’s explanation pops into her mind. _“He holds the key to power. HE will be the only one to truly touch you. Your powers will allow only a few to truly get close without being harmed. But HIM, the music is hears within your veins will tell him you are his mate and his to love. He will not fear the coldness within your veins. Only together can you truly embrace who you are.” _

_“He’ll be able to touch me and I won’t fear hurting him. Will I be able to be with him…always?” Stephen nods. “Will anything take me from him Dad?”_

_“No Sweetheart.” _

Matthew observes her. “I can smell you thinking,” he voices. “What is it?”

“Just a memory,” she smiles tilting her head gazing at Matthew through her lashes. The pain in his eyes of not being able to truly feel her skin is evident. He needs it. HER. “When I got here I was extremely weak. I knew I couldn’t hurt anyone. But now,” her voice breaks. “These gloves will keep you all safe.” 

“You’ve hurt my kind before,” he questions. She only nods. “Only tell the tale if you want me to know. You won’t hurt me Diana,” he sighs tugging the tips of the gloves towards him.

“But?”

“You can’t. I don’t fear you or the coldness in your veins,” he insists with sparkling eyes bopping their noses. A magic pulse shoots from them into the room. _A spark! _The air chills. Her pulse quickens. Every cell in his body utters he’s safe with her. “I won’t let you.”

“Mat…,” she protests. His eyes bore into hers stealing her words.

“Since my rebirth I’ve walked this earth lost until All Hallows eve. I never thought I’d could feel any…,” she silences him wrapping her arms around his torso. She tightens her hold. She presses her face into his chest, over his heart. Her blood hymns his name.

It hammers hard once. Cold sluggish blood, pumps through is veins. A guttural low growl vibrates his body. Every wearh recognizes the sound. His arms encircle her, holding her tightly. His head falls on top of hers burying into her hair. He sways to its sweet sound.

_“Christ,”_ Matthew murmurs. The coldness within her, interweaves with his, strengthening his need to shield, and claim her. _To mate._

“I won’t let any harm come to you,” Diana mumbles into his shirt. Matthew breathes. Her cold tears making it wet. His eyes close. It is not HER job to keep him safe. He’s the protector. Not the opposite.

“Diana I protect you, not the…,”

“You don’t understand. So many depend on you. Need. Rely on you.” She swallows hard cutting him off. “You are loved by so many,” she whimpers.

“Is that so,” he teases lightening the mood. To be loved by her would be everything.

She lifts her head meeting his gaze. She wheezes. He’s not hurt. “See I’m all right and you held me instead.” Her eyes sweep over him quickly sitting up. His blood howls wanting her pressed against him once more.

“When I was unconscious, I felt you by my side,” she blurts out. It makes no sense.

“You did?”

She nods. “I felt you holding me.” The stiffness in his body as he worried she’d die before he knew who she was. “I was safe. You shielded me from the others. You didn’t allow anyone near me.”

“No. It was my job to care for you,” he recalls. “Even then I felt you’re need for me.” She tilts her head. It’s astonishing. “Could you hear me talking to you?”

“I heard voices. As I got better, and close to waking up, I heard you. You were so worried.” Matthew eyes widen. “You told me your name, and you’d return for me.” She bites her lip. “No one was to touch me without your consent.”

He hisses. “I meant it Diana. Then and now. It was a warning. ” He eyes his bed. “Did you know I placed you in my bed?”

She blushes. “Yes. I smelled you. The covers over me, along with this,” she rubs his cloak, “helped me come back to…,” she pauses meeting his gaze. Tears stream down her cheeks. His eyes soften. “You saved me Matthew.”

“Ohhhh,” he cries. He reaches out quickly pressing her flush against his chest, nestling her close. He lifts his cloak over her fully. She tucks into him perfectly like a cork into a wine bottle. It is not he who saved her, it is the opposite.

When she calms, she sits up gazing up him. “You have questions?” He nods. “I can only tell you certain things. The future is a fickle thing.”

“Do you know how you got here,” he asks.

“I have an inkling,” seeing the chest piece.

“The White Queen,” he eyes it on the mantle. “How?” She bites her lip.

“I lead me on my journey to you.”

“You know _wearhs? _Sorceress not supposed understand our kind, and ways,” he inquires.

“I just do,” she answers.

“You’re close to others like me who are not just witches then,” he replies. She slows her heart rate. He squints. “You can’t say.”

She reaches for his gloved hand feeling the metal band on his finger. He slips it off. “This ring. You know it. I am the DeClermont on the Congregation.” Her eyes dampen. Lilly of the Valley, and Weeping Willow flood the air.

She withdraws her hand. His reflexes are quick. He latches onto her squeezing it tenderly. “I won’t let the witches, or any of my kind get to you. My house is your sanctuary for all long as you are need of it. And me. I’ll do what I must to see no harm comes to you.”

“You’re are risking much for my safety.” He kneels before her. Anxiety, the urge to run enters her bloodstream. “If anything were to happen to Jack, or you Matthew…,” her voice tightens.

Tears pool fall down her cheeks. He catches them in his hand. They turn to ice, melt in his palm before evaporating. His eyes widen.

“No one would dare trespass on _wearh_ land. Every resident living nearby knows this and would not cross the property line unless they have my sole permission. It would unforgivable and require retribution. If any refuse to head the warning especially now,” he stares deeply into her eyes, “I nor any in this household will stand for it.”

“But…,” she protests. He cups her face silencing her. She nuzzles into his cold touch. She is not worth him risky his safety.

“No. I will not ignore a challenge such as this,” his voice vibrates deep within his chest. He shields her, encroaching on her covered legs. “Even if I could resist this desire to shield you from all prying eyes, I could not.”

Her eyes sparkle becoming lost in his. He can’t be serious. “Matthew…,” she mewls.

“It is my deepest wish to shield you from others,” he speaks the words before he can’t.

“I am capable,” she insists. Right now she can barely walk without aid.

“Not yet you can’t,” he warns noting the change in her scent. “You’ve only just begun to move about. Your magic is returning. Unless…,” he growls. The idea of any other helping her does not sit well with him at all.

“Francoise assisted me when it was a must,” she clips calmly. “She made sure I ate, drank, and slept. She has been kind to me.” He hates another tended to her, but he is grateful Diana trusted Francoise.

“May I ask you something…,” she asks.

“Name it,” Matthew utters.

“Jack?”

“You want to know why I took in a ward,” she nods.

“You are a single gentleman. It’s uncommon for a man, one with rank and privilege to take on such a task without a wife,” she states. Her own eyes sweep over him. It would be no shock if this was 400 years from now. Here in 1590 it’s unheard of.

Matthew recants Jack’s story. He could not let an innocent child die. The entire house assisted. He healed. In the end he could not part with him. The child is aware he’s the only human in the house and enjoys it.

“I grew attached. I may not have had a hand in making him but he’s my son in every way. He carries my last name. You don’t have to share the same blood to be considered family.”

His honesty shocks her centuries ahead of his time.

“Not all _wearhs_ would comply,” she reminds him. “He’s a warm-blood.”

“He. Is. My. Son. I could not sit idly and watch another child die,” he admits before he can stop himself.

“Tell the tale when you are ready.” she assures him softly.

“Now,” he exhales deeply. He sits beside her. “Why are you so familiar to me? I recognize your scent but cannot place it. Have we have been formally introduced?”

She bites her lip. “Yes,” she whispers. “Once.”

“You must be mistaken.” He thinks. If so he would have courted her. “I’ve heard tales about you.” She giggles. It’s like music. “Good or bad ones.”

“Probably both,” she rolls her eyes. She has no idea what Miriam or Marcus told him in the present but she can only imagine.

“Why didn’t I meet you before,” he asks surprised.

“There was an excuse on your part,” she carefully sadly explains. Willow sap emits. “I never knew the reason. You are extremely busy. Focused. You keep to yourself. I figured it was because I’m a witch and you’re a…,”

“Vampire,” he finishes for her. “I had not been called that before.”

She smiles. “The timing wasn’t right. I always thought it was because being around would have been too tempting.” He listens. “Or you hated me because I’m a very different witch even for my species,” she admits sadly.

“One I could never hate you. There is nothing to keep me from you now,” he speaks tightening his voice. “I am aware of your essence. Your scent. Heartbeat. A breath. The music in your veins. I’ll come find you Diana,” he voices with conviction. “I know you exist.”

Her lashes flutter with heat rising into her cheeks. _“Nothing will keep him from you once he finds you,”_ her mother’s words ring out. _“There will be a sparks. He’ll hear the music within you.”_

“I’m sorry I through your house into chaos.”

“Nonsense. You could have leapt through the centuries and landed anywhere. I am happy it’s me,” he explains moving his arm behind her head. His fingers lace into the creamy strands. It’s velvety, like the finest fabric. 

His head angles towards the door. “It would seem my time alone with you is coming to end,” his jaw tightens. “Francoise and Andrew are coming. Jack of course wants to see you.” He growls, he grouses. He flexes his cloak over her, tossing his scent towards the door’s opening.

“Stop,” she warns. The air chills. “You can’t keep me all to yourself. Jack needs me. I am not…,” she pauses.

His eyes darken closing the space between them. She IS HIS. His fists clench his cloak pulling it tighter. “I don’t share well,” he explains staring at the entrance to his bedchamber.

“Well you’re going to have to learn Mister,” she taps his chest with her gloved finger tips. Her word choice and behavior shocks him. “If not, I’ll banish your ass so far you’ll never find me.”

His next movement is swift. She’s sitting in his lap. “What the..,” she stammers. 

Gently but firmly his hand cradles her chin. His body tremors just thinking of not finding her, or worse another taking her from him. He stares into her eyes with an intensity rendering her mute.

“Never underestimate how fast I can be or what I am capable of especially when it comes to you. I will not be kept from my…,” he cuts his words short. 

_Mate_ echoes deep within his soul. Her pulse quickens allowing the music within her veins to answer his call.

“Matthew,” she sniffles.

“I…,” His face inches closer overwhelmed. Her scent is delirious. “The scent of you,” he breathes longingly. “Chamomile, willow sap, honey, Lady’s mantle,” he pauses drawing her closer. His nose is inches from her neck. The blood rushes to the surface. “Frankincense.”

He moves her hand to his heart. Her touch is warm. His heart pings - once. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do or give you. Just ask it of me,” his whispers his accent changing. His eyes sweep over her.

“Staying clear of you. Or,” he tilts his head squeezing her hand over his heart. “Not being able to see or touch you even if it only this way. Don’t ask that of me,” his voice turns brittle. 

She stifles a guttural cry.

“I can’t. I won’t permit it.” The warning sends goose-bumps through her. Sharing will be extremely difficult. Her own heart falters.

Her fingers on his lips stop him. “All right.” He relaxes his grip. “For now.”

His eyes sweep over her face. “Merde you’re mesmerizing,” he exclaims. She rolls her eyes at his compliment. “You are. I am going to have to keep myself in check when others begin to notice.”

“I look a fright and like shit,” she blurts out. Matthew mouth falls open before he roars in laughter. “I’m serious,” she chastises.

“Perfect,” his eyes sweep over her. 

“Stop,” she admonishes. Her face heats. “We’ll have company soon.” He shifts her to the couch.

**/**

“Milady Diana, you’re up and in PaPa’s company,” Jack squeals happily approaching Diana. Matthew hisses eager to slip off the couch to protect her. She squeezes his hand. Honey and chamomile surround him.

“Hi Jack,” Diana speaks to him for the first time.

“PAPA SHE SPOKE,” he screeches coming into her arms. Jack sniffs her hair.

“Easy Jack,” Matthew chuckles covering his ears but keenly observing. He is no threat. Sharing Diana however is an unwelcome sensation.

“Your hair smells like honey bees,” he exhales after a burying his nose. “Like Grand-Mama’s and Grand-papa’s have in France.”

“It does,” she asks with a hint of curiosity. “What does your Papa think? His nose is better.”

“Definitely honey,” his gaze does not waver lifting a stray curl. He inhales deeply. “The finest ever produced. And more,” he winks mischievously. “She smells incredible Jack.” He leans closer. His eyes smokier dancing with arousal. His hand covers her back.

“And pretty,” Jack adds staring at Matthew.

Matthew’s appraising look sweeps over Diana. Icicles grow under her skin. “I’d have to agree.”

“Stop,” she warns. Matthew wiggles his eyebrows. She snickers.

“Never,” he torments. She nearly elbows his stomach but Matthew hand blocks her.

“I can’t believe it,” Jack exclaims. His arms remain around her neck. Matthew shifts closer. He’s forcing himself to not interfere.

“Diana easy,” Matthew warns as Jack nestles further. “My son has some weight on him. Jack…” Her hand graces Matthew’s cheek. Chamomile and vanilla calm him.

“I won’t hurt her Papa,” Jack utters. “I’m so happy you’re going to be all right.”

“I am too,” Diana rubs his back. Matthew fingers flex on her lower back then latch onto her hip. “Thank you for taking such good care of me when your Papa…,”

“Wasn’t able. You’re okay now though Papa,” Jack questions. “You hunted with Uncle.”

Matthew squeezes his hand. “I did. Milady Diana would not permit me in her presence until I complied with her wishes. I know better to anger a Lady.” He leans forward. His voice above a whisper. “I prefer it to stop snowing indoors. I am hoping to fend off a massive snow storm in my home.”

“Then don’t make Milady Diana cross anymore,” Jack teases Matthew. He leans into her. “You don’t feel as cold anymore.”

She leans her head on top of his. “Because you are keeping me snug and cozy.”

“Is Papa even though he’s cold?”

“Keep you keep a secret,” she inquires with a glimmer in her eyes.

“Oh yes Milady.”

“Good,” she bops then kisses his nose. “As can I.”

“Wait! What,” Jack jests as Diana tickles him. He wiggles and squirms. Matthew smile broadens. He observes closely. She has a way with him. “Papa she’s going to get me!”

Matthew scoop Jack up. Jack leaps into his father’s embrace knocking him off the couch onto the floor. Diana laugh carries through the entire house. His eyes look up and over his son.

Flurries swirl around her. Her eyes, hair, and skin twinkle in silver blanket of new fallen snow first thing in the morning as the sun’s first light hits it. “Extraordinary,” he breathes staring at her in awe.

Jack sees Diana. He gawks at Matthew. “Is she supposed to shine like the moon over the sea?”

Diana motions for Jack to come to her. “Your gleam Diana,” Matthew mutters animatedly noting her iridescent and flickering skin. She looks at herself. Her hair and skin has streaks of silver, gold, white, creams, and yellow. Through her night rail, it shines.

He grasps her hands. “I’ve only had this happen a few times. When I was truly happy or with,” she hesitates thinking of Marcus – the son he has not sired yet. She misses him and Miriam.

“With,” Matthew’s eyes narrow questioning her. The idea of her being mated to another makes his blood boil. His eyes shoot to the window looking for any male. She’s his. No one else’s.

“Not like that,” she utters reaching for him. Their hands join. Lady’s mantle, the want for her to becomes Jack’s mother, engulf him. “There’s no one,” she admits. He restrains himself from yanking her off the couch into his lap, claiming her in front of Jack.

“Milady Diana is not being courted,” Jack questions “Your parents didn’t arrange a match for you.”

“Jack,” Matthew hisses. “We don’t ask such things.” His stern voice is laced with disapproval. “It is inappropriate.”

“It’s all right,” Diana tugs Jack closer. “He’s only curious. No. Thank goodness too.” Matthew sits on his knees. “In my land sometimes it takes time for such things to happen.”

“Are gentleman of your land Milady unsure of how to do it,” Jack inquires innocently.

Matthew waits for her response. “Let’s just say little one, they don’t always use their brain.”

“Do they not have one?”

Her head rears back as laughter overtakes her. She holds her stomach. Her skin glitters of white, silver and gold. Matthew smile widens. He could listen to its sweet sound all day, every day for centuries, and never tire of it. His body hums with happiness.

He leans on his hand just intently watching. These are questions he did not ask but he never imagined his son would.

“Well the physicians in my land are certain after much examination. But I fear they just don’t use what’s inside correctly. Especially when it comes to a lady,” Diana jests looking casually at Matthew.

“Why?”

“Um well,” she thinks. “Men in my land are a hot mess.”

“Like dirty?”

“No,” she giggles. “Gentlemen in my land cannot seem to keep their affairs in order never mind figuring out how to court a lady,” Diana explains the best she can. “And they don’t engage their brain before acting on an impulse.”

“Is Papa a hot mess,” Jack asks innocently.

“Um…,” Diana meets Matthew eyes. They flicker with delight. “I’ll have to think on it.” Matthew rolls his eyes only making her laugh.

Matthew speaks, “Jack sometimes a woman will render a man so speechless that all his thoughts leave him. She will take over his every waking idea. He won’t be able to function properly until he decides to follow his instincts acting on his heart’s desire.”

Matthew reaches up moving Diana’s hair behind her ear. The glimmering strands illuminate and coil around his gloved finger.

“But not you right Papa,” Jack questions watching his father with Diana eyeing the night rail on her bed.

“We’ll have to see,” Matthew utters with need. His hand brushes down Diana’s arm stopping to hold her hand. “There’s hope,” he wonders. He sits next to her with Jack in his lap.

“Papa is not supposed to sparkle but he does around you Milady.”

Matthew’s face flushes for the first time in ages. He groans. “Jack I am not capable of such a skill or talent. My kind does not sparkle like witches.”

“No,” Jack stares into Matthew’s eyes. “Your eyes do. Especially now,” he glances at Diana. She motions for him to come to her. “Oh no not another secret,” he whines causing her to laugh.

“You know Jack,” she sniggers. Matthew sharp eyes miss nothing. “I never been courted so I have no idea what to expect. You wouldn’t happen to know would you?” He nods excitedly eyeing the gift from his father.

“Good if anyone happens to show up at the gates, you must tell me.” Matthew growls, his body tenses. Diana sees the creature within ready to strike any suitor.

“That would not be wise for a gentlemen to call on you Milady. Not with Papa being overprotective,” Jack wraps his arms around her neck. “He doesn’t share well.”

She giggles. “I’ve deduced that already. We’ll have to teach him how.”

Matthew grumbles. “Oh Papa it’s not that hard,” Jack giggles squeezing his father’s hands. “You share me.”

“Jack you are not Diana,” he retorts shifting closer. Matthew smells Francoise.

She’s startled. “Milady Diana, I knew it would be Milord DeClermont to get you up and out of bed.” She bows and waits to be permitted to enter. Matthew nods.

“Hello Francoise,” Diana answers. Jack sits with Matthew.

Francoise nearly drops her drink and food. “You spoke Milady.”

“Yes my voice has returned.” Francoise approaches slowly noting Matthew’s scent. Her tray is sat on a small table next to her. “Thanks to your care, and of course Sieur Matthew’s.” Her lashes flutter meeting his gaze. “He truly has a healing touch. I would not have made it without him,” her voices catches.

“Diana,” Matthew wheezes. He buries his nose into her hair breathing her in. She’s safe. Alive. With him. He nearly lost her. “Losing you was not an option.” All rational thought would have left him if she had perished.

She nestles into Matthew. The sweetness in her scent is disappearing. Something plagues her. He will question her later. “Francoise her tea please. Diana is not well. Jack return to your studies. You can visit after she rests.”

He kisses Diana’s cheek before leaving surprising her. He hugs Matthew then heads out the door past his Andrew and Pierre. “She’s up and talking Uncle and Pierre.”

Pierre welcomes her and speaks to her briefly while working on the fire and tending to Matthew keeping his distance.

“It is good that you have returned to us Milady,” Andrew speaks keeping his distance. Matthew permits him to enter but cautiously. “You gave the entire house quiet the scare, especially my brother.”

“So I’ve heard,” she replies meeting Andrew’s gaze but squeezing Matthew’s hand. He steps into the room further. Matthew watches him. “Apologies.”

“Not needed,” Andrew answers. “I’m relieved you are on the mend.” He steps closer. Matthew tugs his cloak fitting it securely around her fisting the fabric. His eyes narrow, shake in their sockets. Matthew silently growls.

“Stop,” she pleads looking at Matthew. 

“Matthew,” she sighs. She turns his face meet hers. “He poses no threat,” she mouths silently holding his face in both hands. “Relax,” vanilla, and lavender flood his senses. “He’s curious.”

“Tread carefully brother,” Matthew warns sliding her backwards further into his body. His arm is bent at the elbow, in front of her chest.

Diana’s hand pushes him arm away. It falls in his lap. “Stop it,” she warns. Jack is at the door once again asking for Matthew’s help with his studies.

“Jack I must stay with Diana,” Matthew replies unwilling to leave her. “She needs to eat, and rest.”

“Your son needs you,” she insists removing his grasp. “Francoise will assist. Your brother may sit with your allowance and keep me company. It be nice to become further acquainted.”

“No,” Matthew clips. Diana breathes deeply. She is too tired for this pissing contest. A gust of frigid air jolts her from Matthew’s reach. His response is quick, but the air stops him. “Diana.”

“Tend to Jack. I am in capable hands,” she looks at Francoise and Andrew. They’re silent. Matthew is ready to pounce. “I won’t turn into a snowflake and fly away,” she teases smirking. He hisses. Not complying.

“Papa please help with my numbers,” Jack beseeches holding Matthew’s hand.

“Go nowhere. If you must get up, call for my aid.” He turns to Francoise, and Andrew. “Do not touch her.” Diana whips him with the chilly air. “Ouch,” he stands up startled. The blue within her eyes turns dark as the night sky. The white within swirls like a powerful snow storm.

“Milady Diana is about to turn you into an ice block Papa. Please come,” Jack insists tugging his father’s hand. “You promised you could not upset her.”

Matthew begrudgingly leaves scooping Jack up out of the room in a flash. Once he’s gone, Diana releases the spell.

“My, that was fun,” she winks at Francoise and gazes at Andrew. “Sit please,” she motions towards a chair. “Matthew will not strike. He needs to sort his instincts out. Tell me all about yourself.”

Andrew remains weary of Matthew’s retaliation. Diana outward calmness finally makes him sit in a chair six feet away, and they chat getting to know each other.

**/**

**November 10, 1590 (4 days later)**

“What do you mean Milord has forgotten today’s events,” Francoise questions Pierre. It is just them with Diana and Jack. Matthew and Andrew left the Lodge an hour before first light to hunt.

“He’s distracted Francoise,” Pierre reminds her eyeing the stairs. “How can you not see the bond deepening within Milord and the Lady of this house? Each day is grows.”

“My sight is perfect,” she hisses continuing with her chores. Francoise drops the basket of produce, proteins, and grains onto the counter. Her patience wavers. “Did you not remind him?”

“No,” Pierre winces also reiterating another important matter their Lord must attend to in a week’s time. “When Father Andrew realized it he nearly dropped his glass of wine. He will refresh his memory. If they do not return soon, things will be hard to explain. Our…,”

Francoise is across the room in a flash inches from his face. “I am aware. An hour after first light.” She grasps her chest. “I must wake and prepare Milady Diana. She will be appropriately dressed on this day. You prepare the Little Mister.”

They each finish their chores quickly. Pierre heads to Jack’s room with food to rouse him. Francoise wraps on Diana’s door.

“Enter,” she calls out already awake.

“Morning Milady,” Francoise curtsies noting her standing by the window. She’s eaten and drank her tea. Her arms cross. “Please don’t tell him. I can get up on my own. He just doesn’t approve. His over protectiveness will cause his hair to whiten.”

Francoise chuckles. “He fears for your health and safety Milady especially now that your powers are growing.”

“I am in good health,” Diana chuckles. Her fingers brush over fresh flowers on the table by her bed. Every morning a new bouquet is here. “How?”

“My Lord says it’s a secret,” Francoise winks. “One I am forbidden to reveal.” Diana smells them. Their scent makes her own sweeter. Francoise walks to the closet pulling out gowns, a corset, stockings, and linen chemise first.

‘What’s going on?”

“We are going to get dressed today,” Francoise tells her. “It is time. Then we shall meander downstairs. I am guessing you are tired of walking in circles in Milord’s sleeping quarters.”

“Seriously?” Francoise chuckles. “Matthew warned you all not to escort me down without his permission. He is to do it.”

“Aye Milady,” Francoise displays the gowns. “However I have a hankering you will not wait once you are presentable. You are willful.”

Diana laughs.

“Aren’t these too pretty just for going to downstairs?”

“You are special to Milord. Only the finniest will do,” Francoise explains. “Come. Chose then I shall help you.” Diana squeals picking the perfect gown to accentuate her eyes, style, and who she is. Layer by layer she’s transformed.

Francoise exams her hair. “Watch,” Diana twirls her fingers in the air. White and silver chords form out of nowhere. They circle her hair, braiding it on both sides. The back lift into a high bun. The braids wrap around it. Only two stray curls hang from her brows. 

“Well,” Diana spins allowing her magic into the gown.

“Milord is extremely lucky to have found you at last Milady,” Francoise replies in awe of Diana. “He never thought he would. As are we all. Your gloves.”

Diana blushes. “Merci. But I am lucky one.” A knock is heard on her door.

“Merde,” Jack utters sounding like his Father. “Papa may faint or lose his wits when he sees you.” He bows.

“He best not. I cannot catch him.”

“May I,” Jack offers his arm.

“I’d be delighted,” Diana answers. Jack proudly escorts her out of Matthew’s bedchamber. After ten days of being in cooped in one room, and constantly pestering Matthew to go downstairs, it’s happening. She stops at the top step, seeing Pierre waiting.

“Mistress,” he greets her differently. Matthew’s scent covering her takes him back. “I will be in front of you in case you tumble.”

“Pierre, there is no need,” Pierre smiles.

“Better to be safe,” he insists walking a few steps ahead of her. Stopping on the middle landing in front of stained glass window she hears Andrew, Matthew and another male voice she does not recognize. Matthew’s voice is tense and he’s agitated.

Her pulse slows masking her scent from drifting towards him. Cold air shoots from the open door past Matthew, and others headed for Diana. The wind encircles her entering her bloodstream causing her magic to spark, blood to sing his name and scent to be released.

Matthew eyes widen picking up Diana’s desire for him to return to her side. _Black currants, violets, wisteria, and Jasmine. _His heart thumps. She’s near. The song within her beckons. He’s gone before Andrew and their guest can stop him.

She lifts her foot to step forward until she’s faced with a wide-eyed Matthew standing at the bottom step shielding her from Andrew and their guest. She sighs taking him in. “Holy shit,” she utters seeing their guest.

Their guest is rather taken back at her outburst. This morning’s events and Matthew’s behavior become clear.

All Matthew sees is her. Her body comes alive as his sparking eyes take her in. His love. Life. Future. His Mate.

He grips the wooden railing nearly snapping it restraining himself from rushing to her. The sapphire blue, gold and white satin gown fans out from her figure. It’s laced up the front with a gold braided chord. Flowing sleeves, white on the inside. 

“Diana,” he coos unable to take his eyes off her. He grips his chest. Even he could breath, he cannot. The sun’s morning light, shines through her falling on Matthew, warming him.

_Sparks lift into the air. _

“Matthew,” she whispers. Her lashes flutter beckoning him closer. _Only him_. He rushes towards her.

Jack steps back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” he growls staring at Francoise. She bows. “If any wearh is taking her anywhere it’s me. You did not wait for me. You could have fallen or…,” he stops when her hand touches his face. “Diana.”

“I can handle stairs,” she insists. Her voice calm.

Christ he missed her. He was only gone for a couple of hours. He reaches for his cloak. “I am not cold.” He eyes her. “Please,” she eyes their guest.

“Yes formally introduce us. Bring her,” he announces.

Matthew’s eyes never leave Diana’s. There is no fear. He kisses her wrist. Her scent dizzies him. His arm sneaks around her latching onto her hip. Their free hands connect. “Merde I missed you.” He nearly lifts her, carrying her away from everyone, unwilling to share.

“Share,” she whispers.

“You should have chosen a different gown to make it easier,” he quips. Passion dances in his eyes. “Come,” his voice low breathing her in.

He glides her down the stairs slowly stopping in front of their guest, who gazes at her with wonder. Matthew reaches for his cloak, his grip tightens.

_“_Who is this rare and unique young sorceress_ Matthaios?_” He lifts Jack into his arms hugging him. His eyes widen smelling his son scent ALL over her.

Shielding Diana but presenting her correctly Matthew speaks, “Diana this is my father Philippe DeClermont.”

**/**

**TBC...**

**Yes my fellow creatures I am going to drop the Daddy of all endings and leap home to the current year. I could not help myself by adding Pappa DeClermont. The second trailer gave me the inspiration. Question is what will he think of her? Will he approve? It's 1590 so what is happening between his son and Diana is forbidden. Diana charmed Matthew's entire household but is she up for the challenge of Philippe. Time will tell. He is here visiting Matthew for a reason. In the next chapter you will learn why.**

**I hope you are all excited for the premiere this weekend as I am. I doubt I'll be able to update this beforehand but none the less, I think the new season will feed my cravings to add more to this. Matthew in all the leather, and capes definitely makes my heart flutter. **

**Please remember to leave me your thoughts, and hopes for chapter 6. Take care and thank you for reading...**

**Lady Lazz**


	6. Time Has Brought Your Heart To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Hot Mess Matthew in this chapter. I hope you are ready because after our Guests arrival, things are going to get fairly messy and highly entertaining. How will our Matthew deal, read on and see.

Hello #AllSoulsFamily 

I’d like to thank all the new & old followers of this fic. I am honored, humbled, and grateful to you for all the love and support this story has received. It is truly a labor of love. Writing this AU time walking story has been a great comfort to me. I’m so pleased it’s done the same for so many. 

I watched the finale and loved it. I hope this story will help ease those finale blues and give ALL my readers something to look forward to. 

Happy Reading... 

Lady Lazz 

/ 

Chapter 6: Time Has Brought Your Heart To Me 

“Legends say a tale of a powerful sorceress will be born once every two millennia. Their birth will be on the longest and coldest night of the year. There can only be one. If the child is a daughter, she is of your past, present, and future self; mated to one in family of Immortals. 

This Immortal Mate bestowed upon her will carry the blood of more than one creature. With HIS love, only can her true power be unbound and their bond never be broken. Only time’s window can separate the lovers' hearts.” 

/ 

Flashback to Phillipe’s Departure and Arrival 

Philippe and Alain have been be travelling since October 30th from Sept-Tours to Matthew’s Estate. They had promised Ysabeau they’d stop, change horses, and hunt at least twice. The journey was long and arduous. Riding on horseback, and then aboard a ship is no easy journey even for Philippe. 

He loved France, the castle, and being in close proximity to his mate, Matthew’s beloved mother. His absence from her touch, smell, love almost 14 days weighs heavily on his entire being. He urged her to join him but her duties required her remain in France. 

A few days before Philippe’s departure, an odd feeling came over Ysabeau with no explanation. She sensed a change occurring within her mate he was unaware of. He sensed anxiety brimming within her due to it. 

The night before his departure Philippe was startled to see her sleeping in their bed. He joined her, nestling his body close to hers. While they slept a cold unbound power circled the air. 

When Ysabeau opened her eyes, Philippe was asleep. She studied her mate closely. The moon’s rays were shinning in the room. She blinked rapidly noting his skin gleaming like new fallen now. 

Her hands caressed his cold skin. Snowflakes clung to her fingers. She pulled away quickly. The ring he gave her long ago, shimmered brightly. It’s rays beaming into the ceiling above. Snow formed above their heads and slowly falls from the rafters. 

“Merde,” she gasps. 

Philippe opens his eyes detecting his mate’s distress. 

“My love. What is it,” he mutters. She’s staring at the ceiling. 

Ysabeau faces Philippe. “I swore it was starting to snow in our bedchamber.” She faces him. His skin is normal. “Snow and ice were on your skin. It stuck to my hands. You were glowing.” 

Philippe’s eyes widen. “My love that’s not possible.” He sits up glancing outside. “Unless,” he gasps. It’s lightly snowing. A familiar chill courses through him headed for his heart. He grips his chest. 

“Philippe,” Ysabeau questions. The room chills further. “What is it? There are no secrets between us.” 

“I tell you when I’m certain,” he promises. 

“I cold great power is coming,” Ysabeau beseeches nestling herself closer. “I feel it within you. An ancient magic is in your veins.” His grip tightens. He’s colder than usual. After a morning of passion, he reluctantly leaves their bed. 

“Winter is coming early,” Ysabeau voices to Philippe as he readied the horses. “It surrounds you.” He eyes the horizon then at their intertwined hands. A priceless heirloom is missing. She squeezes a velvet sack into his palm. 

“It’s time we give this to Matthew,” she kisses his lips. “The snow, says it must be so. I hear it in the wind. He will be in need of it now.” 

“My love, are you certain,” Philippe pleads. Her hand looks bare without it. “One day you’d bequeath it to him. Are you certain My Love?” 

She cups his cheeks gazing lovingly into his eyes. “One-hundred percent. Listen.” A soft melody is in the chilly wind. 

It swirls around Philippe and Ysabeau. The snow hits his face, he hears.... 

“Ah ah oh oh…," 

Philippe’s heart beats. He grips Ysabeau’s hand. “It can’t be,” he murmurs. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” he hears a second time. Snow funnels around him. 

He grips the velvety bag over his heart. The metal cools to below freezing. He drops the contents into his palm. It’s glowing a bright silvery blue. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” echoes between them a final time before shooting into the air surrounding Sept-Tours. 

“My darling,” he mutters unsure if she heard the voice. 

“The melody is not for me. It belongs to Matthew.” She cups his cheeks sensing his would-be mate’s arrival. “Give it to him when the time is right. You’ll know when you get there,” urging him onto his horse. “Go he needs his Father more than I.” 

Twelve long days later, on the 10th of November, he’s arrived. 

“The air is quiet cold Milord,” Alain comments as they ride to the edge of Matthew’s property. 

Philippe sharp eyes scan the air around them. He pulls his cloak tighter. “It is Alain.” He stops crossing into his son’s territory. “I sense a great power Alain.” 

“I do as well my Lord,” Alain admits. “It’s all around us.” 

Philippe sniffs the air. “My sons are hunting. Let’s join them.” Alain nods. As they ride into the forest, a family of wolves is spotted. The Alpha, a massive jet-black wolf with ice blue eyes, growls at Philippe. His hackles and tail are straight up. 

“I will not harm you or your family,” Philippe utters calmly to the Alpha. His head held high. “Your family are safe.” On Matthew’s last visit to France, he mentioned a wolf pack living on his land. He will never hunt a wolf or their pups feeling a kindred connection to them. 

Behind the Alpha, a stark white wolf with ice blue eyes is laying with their pups. She stares at Philippe. “His mate,” he speaks. A wind chill shoots past him into the pack. Her eyes sparkle. “It can’t be,” he voices sensing his sons. 

Philippe rides towards where he can hear Matthew and Andrew. They finished hunting. 

“Matthaois,” Philippe calls out startling Matthew off his horse. It dawns on him quickly the reason his Father is here. 

“Father,” Matthew stammers. He can sense Diana’s faint heartbeat. His focus is solely on her. He must return to her side. 

“Hello Father,” Andrew bows to Philippe. He glances up at the sky. The sun still has not risen. “You are early.” 

Philippe eyes his sons carefully. Both are behaving strangely. An unknown scent is detected. He steps closer. It’s on Matthew. “You seem different Matthaois.” He inhales. “Lady’s mantle, frankincense, willow sap, and honey. Has Francoise acquired new herbs for Jack?” 

“No Father,” Matthew utters calmly. He chastises himself for forgetting. He knew Philippe was arriving soon but had not realized the date until Andrew mentioned it. 

“Well come greet me properly then,” Philippe booms opening his arms. 

Andrew goes first hoping to give Matthew time to calm himself. He prays to anyone listening in the heavens that their guest can handle their Father. 

“Matthaois come,” Philippe beckons. Matthew complies. He hugs his son tightly nearly lifting him off the ground. Matthew’s heart thumps quickly. His body temperature climbs. The morning hunt flowing into his body. He’s nearly overwhelmed with cinnamon and cloves. 

Philippe rears back, setting Matthew in front him. He grasps his upper arms gazing into his eyes. Dilated pupils. His urge to hunt for something else evident. Is it the new scent he detects? 

“Yes Father,” Matthew inquires. 

Philippe is quiet. His Matthaois is anxious. He steps closer. His own scent overpowering all other. “Why do you smell like the lavender field by Sept Tours? Chamomile and vanilla too. Your own is heightened? Are you sure you are all right?” 

“I am Father,” Matthew responses gazing into his Father’s eyes remaining calm. His eyes unfocused. No elevated pulse. 

All he can think about is HER. What she’s doing in his absence? Has she eaten? Slept? Did she drink the tea? When she woke up and he was not there, did she long for him? Christ, he craves for her to be in his arms, his face buried into her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. All his thoughts, moods revolve around her. 

His every instinct is controlled by the look on her face, scent, or emotion. 

Since finding her footing, he’s barely left her. Each new morning, Diana feels renewed. The music in her veins, and growing powers when he’s near spark her magic. Angst ripples through him with every step she took on her own fearing for her safety. 

With more mobility, she has been eager to explore the house and outside. He’s managed to talk to her out of it without his aid, but knows, she’ll do something without him. If she gets injured, and he is not there, he’ll never forgive himself. 

The entire house heard their argument that she can walk unattended, and tend to her own needs. The healthier she becomes, the more her independence grew. It’s driving Matthew mad. How can she not see how much HE NEEDS her safe, and good heath? 

She aches to be outside. To feel the cold wind on her face allowing it to flood her veins. Her magic craves it intensifying daily. His vampire senses are in perfect harmony with music in her blood singing for him. 

The mutual attraction deepens each day, bringing his desire to become hers harder to keep hidden. Each look, casual touch, his voice, send tremors through her blood and body. Speckles of cold, silver, and white shine on her skin when his eyes sweep over her. She wills herself to only want his friendship, and companionship. 

Her body craves his touch and to lay in his arms. The need for him to claim her. At times she aches to hold his hands or caress his cheeks without gloves. A fire ignites in her belly when they touch or his eyes swoop over her body. 

The last few days, she’s ached to be thoroughly kissed by him but reeled herself back. Matthew is aware of it. Hints of sweet candied raspberries, and blackberries permeate the room when he stares at her lips. 

His thumb graced over them the other day. Her legs nearly gave out. She stepped out of his grasp before he could stop her. The unrest clearly written on her face. She will not allow herself to hurt or kill him because she cannot control her magic. 

“Matthaois,” Philippe speaks earning Matthew’s attention. They stop walking towards the house with the horses. 

Philippe stops grabbing Matthew’s arm. He walks a circle around him taking stock of his son. His physique has changed. His arms muscles have grown. He’s gained weight. He’s tense. Extremely. Matthew shifts under the scrutiny. 

Philippe touches his arm moving to his face. “You’d tell me if there was something wrong. Your Maman has been on edge.” 

“Father,” Matthew sighs deeply stepping closer to the house. “Maman is always unsettled when it comes to me.” 

Philippe is not buying it. “Because you are our beloved son.” Matthew smiles. “She longs for your happiness.” 

Matthew swallows hard. His Father’s words strike a long asleep chord within him. Happiness? Is this what it feels like? He’s never smiled this much. Her laughter, playful and loving nature with Jack brings him joy. Diana’s smile, music in her veins, safety, and protected by his side is all he needs. Knowing he is the reason, makes his heart sing. 

“You seem older my Son. Both of you,” Philippe tapers his vision. He sniffs the air. The scents around Matthew disappears drifting towards the house. 

“Your Grandson is a ball full of energy. He keeps us all on our toes,” Andrew replies hoping to ward off more questions. 

The horses are returned to the stables, settling them. They approach the house slowly. Fear flashes across his face. He stops seeing Francoise moving about in his bedroom along with another. 

The air temperature drops. “Why is the air around the house so cold Matthaios,” Philippe wonders sensing a great power. 

“It’s November,” Andrew answers. 

They approach the front door. Matthew lingers backwards hoping he can stall Philippe’s entry. His eyes meet Andrew’s. Diana still has not been noticed. “Father, why don’t we take a stroll around the property. Matthew made some changes since your last visit.” 

Francoise, and Pierre with Jack are on the stair case. Matthew listens closely for Diana. He exhales quickly relieved she is not with them. 

Philippe stares at them both. Alain opens the door. Matthew’s reaction is swift, blocking entry. “Let’s go for a stroll Father.” 

“I’ve been traveling for 12 days Matthaois. Andrew,” he grouses. “We do not tire easily but taking an ease in your parlor, spending time with Jack and relax would be perfect.” He steps into Matthew’s personal space. His arms flare out. “Unless there is a reason you will not permit me entry?” 

A gust of cold wind shoots past Andrew, into Philippe. His eyes widen hearing music in a sorceress’ blood. It circles Matthew chilling further, then shoots into the house. The wind encircles Diana. Her blood chants his name, calling for his immediate return. 

“Diana,” he coos angling his body inside his home. The pressure builds in his chest closing in on his heart. He NEEDS her – now. Matthew flies into the house stopping at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes meet hers. “Christ,” he clutches his heart meeting her sapphire eyes. They sparkle as they sweep over him before landing on Philippe. 

“Holy shit,” she explains realizing who it is. 

Matthew grips his cloak, stretching his arms out blocking any from going to her. Greylock, wood burning, pine needles flood the air. Then cinnamon and cloves overpower the other scent. Her scent dizzies him. He’s feverish. Sweat pools on his brows. 

“My God she is so beautiful.” He grips the banister stopping himself from rushing up the steps and carrying her away. 

“This is the power I’ve felt,” Philippe questions looking at Diana. The air around her is very cold. She coos Matthew’s name. Swiftly his son is standing before her, scaring off accept Jack. Lady’s mantle, willow sap, and frankincense surround Matthew. 

The scents on Matthew are hers. The sorceress rests her gloved hand on Matthew’s cheek. Chamomile and honey float in the air entering his body. Philippe listens closely. It soothes him. 

He sniffs the air. Cinnamon and cloves are all over her. Matthew marked her. 

Philippe’s eyes widen. 

Could this sorceress be his? 

Matthew’s scent covering her is a powerful indication. 

Is his Matthaois mating? Has the urge to form the mating bond finally taking hold of his most cherished son? The velvet pouch from Ysabeau, is it for this Sorcercess? 

Philippe’s keen eyes, and ears miss nothing of their encounter. She is not cold. Her body temperature is low for a warmblood. His eyes widen when Matthew presses his lips to her wrists; the strongest place one of their kind can kiss. 

Any of their kind who encounter this sorceress will know SHE IS MATTHAOIS’s beloved. 

“Bring her Matthaois,” Philippe commands. The closer she comes to Philippe the more his Son shields her. With a watchful eye, Matthew introduces them. 

“Diana,” Matthew speaks. “This is my Father – Philippe DeClermont.” 

“Encantada Seigneur DeClermont ” Diana courtesies. Her arms flare out. The gowns sleeves drift upwards. The dress fans out. Her eyes never leave Philippe’s. Chilled air flows between them. 

Matthew’s mouth falls open at her formal greeting. 

“You honor me Lady Sorceress,” Philippe responds. He reaches slowly to shake her hand. Matthew tenses. His arms tremble. Out of the corner of Diana’s eye his jaw clenches. His teeth grind together. 

“Father,” he grumbles. “Please. Don’t,” he warns. His eyes darken, hackles rise. Both of Diana’s hands are securely wrapped in his. 

“Je m'excuse Seiur,” Diana interjects. Her voice steady. “I cannot greet you properly without Matthew’s consent. If he permits it, which I hope he would,” her eyes and voice soften gracing her thumb over his cheek. Her slight warmth is felt through the gloves. “Then you can only touch me in a way both of us are comfortable with.” 

Her eyes never leave Matthew’s. He melts with each caress of her fingers. Honey, and vanilla drift into the air. He inhales and exhales with her. His hand covers hers. He kisses it, lingering his lips. 

“I’m safe.” Matthew begins to object. She stops him. “Your father will not harm me.” He tugs her close. She’s hasn’t permitted him hold her in days. Any remnants of her illness, and leaping through time are gone. She’s in is embrace; he longs to touch her skin. 

“Diana,” he pleads hanging on by a thread. The urge to flee floods his veins. He longs to have her to himself. To give her the World. 

“He will not harm me or touch me in any way that could cause incident,” she explains. “Show him how. The least contact. Right?” 

Matthew bristles nuzzling her closer. 

Diana raises to her tip-toes. Her breath falls on Matthew’s face. Her gloved thumbs caress his cheeks just below his eyes. His hands cover hers, weaving their fingers. She squeezes. He’s putty in her hands. “Please, let me greet your Father in the manner that he is accustomed to.” 

Philippe observes keenly. Her touch calms the wolf positioned within to strike. Matthew edges her back, keeping himself between Philippe and Diana. His cloak covers her scent. His entire body is trembling. He’s struggles to breath due to his son’s overpowering scent. 

Diana stretches herself up high to press her forehead to Matthew’s. The skin-to-skin connection he desperately craves is made. A blast of frigid air zaps upwards crashing into the ceiling above. White mist fans out into the room. It swirls around Matthew and Diana forming a protective barrier. 

“Grandpa-pa look,” Jack exclaims pointing upwards. 

“Merde,” Philippe exclaims. Snowflakes fall. They evaporate before hitting their faces but surround Matthew and Diana. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” Philippe hears in Diana’s blood. His heart stammers once recognizing the tune. “It can’t be,” he wonders staring at her. 

She continues to sooth the Alpha wolf poised to strike. 

“Breathe,” Diana pleads keeping nestling herself closer. “I won’t be harmed.” Matthew eyes bore into hers. “I'm right here,” she mutters nuzzling their noses together. “His scent won’t linger. I swear it.” 

Matthew eyes stare deeply into hers. Passion, desire, a longing surge through her. She gasps as he yanks her closer. His hands sprawl out on her back. His eyes cannot help but drift to her heart vein. The blood coursing through shimmers under his gaze. His name rings out in a melody with each beat of her heart. His eyes widen. He brings her closer nearly lifting her off the ground. He craves her body and soul. 

His eyes fall to her pink plush lips. Raspberries. 

“Diana,” Matthew coos cradling her face holding by a thread. “My instincts,” he swallows hard. The urge to bond with her fully takes what little air in his lungs away. “I cannot handle another’s...,” 

“Only your scent will remain,” she interjects. “Only you,” she assures him fluttering chamomile and honey into his face. Her hands travel into his hair, tangling in his curls. His head moves with her touch. Her nails scratch his scalp. A low rumble erupts from Matthew’s chest succumbing to her touch. 

“I won’t share you. I cannot,” Matthew clips. It’s taking every piece of him not to run with her. 

She smirks. “You are going to have to try. For me,” she implores fluttering her lashes. Her eyes change to baby blue. 

Matthew growls but acquiesces. “Father,” he motions to approach slowly. 

“Thank you Matthaois ,” he pauses unsure how to address Diana. “My Lady Sorceress...” 

“She’s the Lady of the House Grand-papa,” Jack interrupts with a massive cheeky grin. Philippe quiets Jack. He winks before placing him on his feet. 

“Jack,” Matthew scolds his voice dipping lower. 

“If I may Brother, Milady Diana is very much the Mistress of the house,” Andrew breaks in hoping to relieve growing tension. 

“Now Matthaois,” Philippe booms. “Show me your wishes concerning the Lady of your household.” 

“Only the tips of her fingers Father. Do not linger. Or my instincts will demand I...” Matthew explains. His voice holding a warning. 

Philippe hands whips up silencing Matthew. 

“Mistress Diana,” he addresses formally meeting Matthew’s darkened eyes. His upper lip twitches as he readies himself to release her. Diana steps forward stretching her gloved hand forward. Philippe bows. The tips of their fingers meet. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” Diana hears in the blink of an eye. 

She looks fixedly at Philippe. Their eyes connect. Philippe’s heart quickens, his mouth gapes open. A snowflake within each one of Diana’s pupils' shimmers back at him. A cold fleeting sensation enters his blood stream headed for his heart. His chest tightens. 

“It’s not possible. Too soon,” he wonders to himself. 

The room spins, blurs and disappears except for Philippe. Snowflakes lift off his body. Her head tilts to the side staring at him. She hears, “she is of your past, present, and future self,” within him. Her eyes widen. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” Philippe’s blood chimes. 

“Mated to one in family of Immortals.” 

“Oh God,” she catches her breath hearing the words in Philippe's blood. It cannot be me; she chastises. 

Philippe releases her fingers keeping their encounter hidden. He’s shaken but will hide it from his Sons. 

“Diana,” Matthew bellows his voice tightened. She’s in his arms before she can blink. 

“I’m all right,” she responds. Her tone even. No one is heard the music but them. She stares at Philippe in wonder. Wearh are a cold species. They do not have snow on their skin. Or sparkle. Their blood does not sing. 

So, what was the incantation or words she heard in his blood? Why didn’t Matthew, Andrew or the others hear it BUT her? 

She recognizes those words but why? 

“Are you all right Mistress,” Philippe speaks keeping himself a safe distance. She nods. “Matthaois bring her to sit down by the window. The cold air will help.” 

“Father can very well take care of my,” he stops himself abruptly before he reveals his heart’s truest desire. 

“Your,” Philippe prods. 

A low hiss escapes Matthew mouth. 

“Stop it. Both of you,” Diana pushes herself free of Matthew’s grip. “I’m perfectly capable of walking across the room to sit down.” Matthew steps closer. “I refuse to be coddled by you,” she points at his face. “Or your Father.” Philippe smirks. 

She steps towards the table. “Diana!” Matthew reaches for her hand. 

“Don’t even think about it,” she faces Matthew with ice forming in her eyes. “Nothing is wrong.” She walks to the table on her own and sits. “Jack come here. Let’s practice your handwriting so we can show your Grandfather your letters.” 

Jack is across the room sitting next to Diana on the bench in front of the window. He opens it for her quickly. The cold air enters her bloodstream. Jack shivers. With a flick of her wrist, Matthew’s cloak leaves his back and hovers across the room. It sprawls itself over his shoulders and Diana’s. 

“Better,” Diana winks at Jack, ignoring the dazed vampires in the room. She kisses his cheek. 

“Yes Milady,” Jack giggles resting his head on her shoulder blade. “We still like Papa now?” 

“We do.” She finally meets Andrew, Matthew and Philippe’s eyes. “Your Father has not been in here quite some time. Please assist him in getting settled. It would be improper for him to do it on his own.” Matthew’s mouth falls open. Andrew and Philippe bite their lips to suppress a giggle. 

Diana’s eyes meet Pierre, Alain, and Francoise. “After Sieur DeClermont is settled, please ensure his favorite wine and food of choice of ready for him to take his ease in the parlor. If you are in need of something special, please inform me, I’ll see to it. Jack and I will remain focusing on his studies. If that will please you Sieur DeClermont.” 

“Most certainly,” Philippe eyes her appraisingly. “I am most grateful Mistress.” He bows. “Matthaios. Andrew,” he motions for his sons’ assistance. “We must comply with the Lady’s wishes.” 

Andrew walks with Philippe but Matthew remains. She feels his eyes staring at her in awe. She motions for Philippe and Andrew to go. She gets up from the table walking to Matthew. 

“Attend to your Father,” she smirks gracing the tops of her fingers over his cheek. “I’m perfectly fine. I got this.” He’s mute but smells himself all over. “Matthew?” 

“When I think you can’t handle it. You amaze me. You are a wonder,” he coos holding her hand to his face. His lips kiss her gloved hand. His heart thumps once. 

“Go,” she teases scooting him out of the room after Philippe and Andrew. 

/ 

Music Herself... 

The rest of the day only heightened Philippe’s curiosity concerning Diana. He’d had a conversation with her while Matthew was showing her around the Lodge after learning this morning was her first time downstairs. 

Philippe stared at Matthew. 

“I had been ill Seigneur and in no condition.” Philippe’s brows creased. “But thanks to Francoise and especially your Son I am fully healed.” 

Philippes eyes sweep across her. “That’s good to hear. I would have hated to miss making your acquaintance.” 

Philippe noticed immediately, if Diana was out of his sight, or immediate reach, anxiety coursed through his veins. Matthew’s instincts were in tune with Diana’s every movement, the thump of her heart, breathing, scent, and mood. His entire focus was her. 

The battle of wills between her and Matthew was a sight to behold. She insisted on doing things on her own, but Matthew felt it was his job to care for her. 

“Willful one isn’t she,” Philippe spoke to Andrew earning a low hiss from Matthew. 

She’d hadn’t been outside or walked in the village. Diana had not been up for it until his arrival. No one would tell him the cause of her illness. It was serious by Matthew’s hovering. Pierre and Francoise also kept tabs on her if Matthew was out of sight. 

“You're doing too much Diana,” Matthew scolded her when she insisted on learning where things are in the house from Francoise and Pierre. 

“I am capable, and refuse to be waited on,” she snipped rising her voice while Philippe spent time with Jack. “Stop it!” 

Philippe overheard Matthew’s stressed voice. He nearly lost her. When his eye’s met Andrew’s furrowed brows he only nodded refusing to comment further. 

Diana wanted to walk the grounds. “You’re not ready. What if you catch cold?” Diana scoffed, storming off to sit in the massive picture window with pillow bench. 

Philippe urged Matthew to bring her on a walkabout through his estate’s lands, and into the village. 

Matthew lost his temper. “Absolutely not,” Matthew hissed. “Not all her strength has returned.” 

“She is not weak Matthaois.” This Philippe was certain of. “You cannot keep her locked away in this house much longer. The Young Lady aches go outside and embrace her surroundings. You are being an improper host. She is not your prisoner.” 

It took Andrew to stop Matthew from charging him. “I never said she was Father. I know what she needs.” 

Philippe chuckled walking away sensing it would be sooner than Matthew thought. 

She was unlike any witch he’d met, accept one when the millennia was B.C. Her magic, the cold within her can’t be a coincidence. She was so familiar to him. 

“Have we met Seigneur DeClermont,” she asked that afternoon sensing it. The cold near him, soft music gave her sensations they’ve met. Marcus never introduced them though. 

“No, my Lady we have not,” he stammers noticing the same melody. 

That evening when Matthew was putting Jack to bed, it left Philippe some time with Diana alone. 

The “ah ah oh oh,” drummed between them grew intensified. The melody was uncanny and brilliant. When tapping into the song within her, she glided across the room like she was on a frozen lake. She channelled every note, chord into her movements. 

“You’re music itself,” Philippe voiced watching her hum, and waltz. Diana smiled. "Can you dance Milady,” Philippe questioned when she joined him by the fire. 

Diana giggled. “No Sieur, I cannot. I’m horrible.” 

“You're kidding,” Philippe gaffed. 

Diana laughed more. “My Father tried to teach me. I almost broke both his feet.” Her cheeks flushed. “The music in my veins has led me down many paths except for dancing. Two left feet I’m afraid.” 

Matthew listened intently stepping into the room. He leaned against the doorway. This too surprised him. The melody within called him closer. He hasn’t dance since he was a human. Philippe wanted all his children to love music. He loved to dance but hadn’t. At family gatherings, he never joined in. 

Now the urge to take her in his arms and waltz her across the room warms his vampire blood. He leans on the wall wistfully imagining dancing with her. Spinning her out as his arm can reach, the bringing her flush against his body. Dipping her backwards, while holding her close. Then burying his nose just under her ear whispering how incredible she feels in his arms. 

“We shall have to fix that. I will teach you,” Philippe lifted his wine glass to her grinning. 

“FATHER,” Matthew warned hearing offer. His blood boils. He grips the back of her chair. His knuckles, fingers turning white. “You will do...” Diana’s gloved hand covering his stops him. 

“I’d be honored Sieur DeClermont but only if Matthew agrees. I don’t want him acting on his instincts even though I am perfectly safe with you,” she tilts her head staring at him, fluttering her lashes. “I would hate myself if I hurt you.” 

“The gloves protect us from your magic Mistress,” Diana nods. “My Matthaois has not touched you at all.” 

“Father that’s enough,” Matthew snarls standing next to Diana poised to intercede if he must. “Your being highly inappropriate.” 

“No,” Diana sniffles squeezing Matthew’s hand. His coldness sparks her magic. “Not till I’m certain he’s safe.” He kneels down beside her. “Only through a protective barrier.” Matthew lifts her hands grasping them in his own. He buries his face in her hands. His heart quivers fearing he’ll never touch her in the manner his instincts crave. 

“You’ll be safe with me for our lessons.” he quips. “I can promise you that.” Philippe eyes his son. 

A low rumble emits from Matthew’s chest before stalking to the window. “It’s too risky.” 

The space around him suddenly chills. He glances up. Matthew’s eyes widen seeing snow forming above his head. His eyes meet Diana’s. 

“Let your Father teach me to dance, or I’ll bring a blizzard on your head,” she challenges with blue fire dancing within her eyes. Philippe sits up. “I’ll have my gloves on. You know damn well I’ll be perfectly safe.” 

“I cannot,” Matthew growls. His eyes darken. 

She stands up briskly walking over to him. “Why don’t you trust me,” she challenges. The air in the room becomes cold and charged. 

“It’s not about trust Diana,” Matthew warns. He steps closer. His entire body vibrates. 

“BULL SHIT,” she clips her voice raised. Philippe’s smirk grows on his face. “You don’t trust me around your Father or vice versa. He will not harm a hair on my head. For Christ sake’s you can be in the room.” 

Matthew nearly grabs her. The burning within his body increases. He stands inches from her, fire burning in his own eyes. No one must touch her BUT him. “My Father is not teaching you anything.” 

“It’s not your choice. This time it’s mine,” she clips back standing on her tip-toes. “I will be safe with him.” 

She begins to walk off but Matthew reaches out yanking her into his arms. “I’LL SMELL HIM ON YOU,” he growls. His face goes red. Veins on his forehead stick out. “I CANNOT PERMIT YOU TO BE IN HIS ARMS NOT WHEN I ONLY WANT YOU IN MINE.” 

Matthew face breaks at his admission. Cinnamon and cloves overpower any other scent in the room. It flows around Diana, leaving no trace of her. All Philippe smells is Matthew. Philippe catches his breath as its strength. 

Her eyes widen then brim with tears. 

“Matthew,” she whispers. “For me.” Tears cascade down her cheeks. Matthew softens catching them in his hands hating to see her cry. He grunts knowing he will not win this fight. He stalks off to calm down. 

She faces Philippe clearly embarrassed. “Apologies. I swear I don’t know what’s come over him.” Philippe head tilts. “Maybe you can help him?” 

“Perhaps. Do you always get your way with my son Mistress,” Philippe wonders his brows folding together. 

“Can you keep a secret,” Philippe nods. “Good so can I.” His mouth falls open. “Now dancing. Name the time and place. I’ll be there whether Mr. Grouchy Pants agrees or not.” 

Philippe roars in laughter. 

Once the fire began to die down, Matthew returned in better mood. He escorted her up to bed. Matthew remained until he was certain she was asleep. 

He did not think his son shared his bed with the witch. He smelled their combined scents once he sat by the fire. Nothing had been consummated but why was a joined scent so powerful. 

/ 

The White Queen... 

The next day, November 11, after breakfast, when Diana and Jack were busy on his studies, Philippe corned Matthew in his office. How she came to him? From where? Why was she there? She casts snow and ice spells. How? What was happening between them? 

Matthew’s nostrils flared, his chest tightened, with Philippe’s questions. Caging him was unwise. After what Philippe witnessed, felt around Diana, she is NO ordinary witch. 

“Father let me pass,” Matthew warns. “I need to get back.” 

“To Jack or the Lady Sorceress,” Philippe challenges. His voice steady but with a challenge. 

“Her name is Diana,” he snips. His tone grouchy. His eyes deep blue. 

“Your son is perfectly content in her arms.” Matthew hisses. “Andrew is there just in case Jack becomes rambunctious.” 

“Move,” Matthew growls loudly attempting shove past Philippe. It should be him not his brother at her side. 

“Talk to me about your Sorceress first.” 

“I refuse.” Matthew’s voice intensifies. In a flash he’s to the door but Philippe is faster. His arms go out pushing him into the room. He’s forced to the window. Every sound, slight movement from Diana he hears. Matthew becomes hostile. 

“LET ME GO.” 

“Your Sorceress is happy and safe my Son,” Philippe chastises. 

Matthew eyes darken twitching in their sockets. Christ he must see her, be with her. When she smiles, especially at him, his heart forms wings, searching for hers eager to become one. His blood screams for her. 

Philippe does not relent. 

“She’s not MY sorceress Father,” Matthew challenges. A fire courses through his veins. His mating instincts are brought further to the surface. He struggles to break free of Philippe’s hold aching for Diana to become his entirely. 

“Whose mate is she Matthaois,” Philippe pushes. With certainty Matthew is mating. This reaction of being kept apart from her confirms it. His inability to see her, touch her, is sending his son into a frenzy. 

“Release me,” Matthew grimaces. His entire being craves to be in her presence. Philippe hears his blood howling for Diana. Her name is singing within his veins. 

“Is she Andrew’s?” A wolflike mating growl emits from his son. 

“NO! Andrew would not dare. If he touches her,” he bristles. “I may kill him. She’s unmated.” Matthew snarls as Philippe holds him tighter. 

“And why not,” Philippe chastises. His voice turning sinister. 

“Father....,” 

“TELL ME,” Philippe yells. “I smell another’s Wearth scent all over her Matthaois. The scent is powerful and mixed. She’s been with one of our kind. I know she’s been here for a while. Sharing a bed.” 

“I have not bedded her Father,” Matthew snaps his face red with anger. He swallows hard revealing too much. He longs to be the one to claim her. To make love to her and never let her go. To drink from her heart vein. The desire floods his body, picking up Diana’s scent. Matthew breaks free but Philippe is at the door. 

“You want her Matthaois. I smell it. Your scents are combined. Your own has nearly left me unable to breath with its potency. You think I wouldn’t know. Whether you consummated your bond with her or not. Your instincts demand you claim her as your mate. Why are you waiting?” 

Matthew bares his teeth and snarls. 

“Is it the Covenant,” Philippe counters. “They will not go after you or her. I’ll see she is protected. In becoming your wife, and mate she’ll be DeClermont. She’ll be untouchable.” 

Matthew charges him. Philippe arms flare out grabbing him by the shoulders tossing him on the floor. “Do you want another to claim her as their mate?” 

Matthew releases the wolf within. He kicks, growls to be set free. He must go to her, take her in his arms, and cling to her for dear life. Diana is his reason he’s on this Earth. Her scent is the air in his lungs. Her heart beat, brings him to life. 

A small knock is heard. It’s Diana. Philippe waits to move until Matthew is calm. 

Matthew eyes meet hers. He looks as if he’s been in a war. His entire body relaxes seeing her. He’s been away from her a couple of hours and he’s falling apart. He reaches for her hand, but she does not extend it nor enter. 

“I heard yelling. Is everything okay,” looking fixedly at Philippe and Matthew. Both are a mess. 

Matthew exhales. “Yes. My Father likes to play chess but doesn’t like to lose. He insisted on a quick game.” He swallows hard. 

Diana sees the chess board. “I cannot play nor I am one to argue. But,” she squeezes Matthew’s hand finally staring into his eyes. Her gloved hand caresses his cheek. He kisses her fingers. The stress of their separation leaves his body. “It’s just a game. Only one winner.” She faces Philippe. “Don’t you agree.” 

“Of course,” Philippe smirks. She eyes Philippe with his hands behind his back. She heard noises. Furniture being shifted. 

“Sometimes,” she winks at Matthew before walking to the chest board. She twirls her hand in the air. The White Queen appears. She faces Philippe. The room chills. Frost and ice form on her fingers chilling the piece to below freezing. 

“You leapt through the centuries,” he voices out loud. “Time brought your heart to,” he pauses. Matthew’s mouth twitches. “Matthew lost her centuries ago.” 

She nods, sauntering to Philippe with no fear. “The White Queen must take charge, and be permitted move freely in order earn respect and protect of those she loves. She will do what she must to protect her King. To ensure of his safety and love. Don’t you agree Sieur Philippe.” 

Her utterance of his first name makes her skin shine like new fallen snow. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” Philippe hears stepping back. 

“Aye Mistress.” He smirks impressed by her actions. 

“Good.” She steps back stopping in front of Matthew. Her arms flare out shielding him from Philippe. The cold air circles him. Matthew swallows hard. “Your Father has concerns about me. I will ease your fears. Your game can wait. Please stop arguing and come see Jack. He needs you both. I am not worth arguing over.” 

Matthew’s reaction is shift gripping her hand quickly. He exposes her wrist. “You are worth everything,” he mews. His gaze never wavers kissing her exposed wrist. Her heart flutters. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. 

She faces Philippe. 

“Play nice. BOTH of you. If not, I’ll turn you both into a block of ice.” With a turn of her heels, she sashays out of the room. Once out of sight she releases a breath feeling dizzy. The magic drained her. She hides it from Matthew but once Francoise sees her, she brings her tea. 

Philippe cannot stop the smile from growing on his face. 

“Father...” Matthew voice dips in warning observing how his Father reacts to Diana. 

Philippe faces him. “You still haven’t told her the reason for my visit.” Matthew’s purses his lips. “You know the request cannot be ignored.” Matthew gulps. “She will be all right. Question is will you? Leaving one’s mate is a pain felt like no other. Especially when the bond hasn’t been acted on.” 

“That’s enough,” Matthew snarls baring his teeth. 

“Omitting it and permitting her to find out on her own will make matters worse,” Philippe warns. “She is your destiny Matthaios. Time brought her heart to you. The sooner you stop resisting the better. It will harm you both.” Philippe warns. Matthew growls. “For both of you.” 

“Nothing is happening Father,” Matthew clips keeping his temper in check. “Diana is my guest.” 

Philippe laughs. “That is your explanation. Why is your scent covering her? And hers you. I am countless Millenia old.” He’s stands inches from Matthew. “You are protecting, shielding, and wanting her for yourself. If any other comes to close, you struggle to keep control. You my most beloved son, are mating.” 

Matthew’s lips tighten refusing to admit it. He can’t be. He swore to himself he’d never desire or fall in love with another. 

“Diana is not...,” he cannot utter it. The mere idea of her belonging to another creature sours his stomach. His palms sweat. The room spins. His blood heats to a near boiling point. Philippe notices the change in his scent. 

“Not what. Your mate,” he counters gripping on his son’s shirt. “If that is the case then let her go.” 

“NEVER,” Matthew hisses as pain shoots through him. It nearly cripples him. Philippe holds him up. 

“Matthaois,” he coos his voice soothing. He cups his face. “The sooner fortify your union, the easier it will be.” 

Matthew turns quickly. His eyes black. “We will speak of this matter no further. I will do what I must to ensure her safety.” 

“The Sorceress does not need your protection.” Philippe challenges earning a wolf snarl from his Son. He rushes pass him to return his family. 

When Philippe arrives, Jack was excited to show him his studies. He was impressed with Jack’s penmanship, mathematics, and science. He was content watching her with Jack while Matthew sat by the fire place observing their every move refusing to move closer to prove Philippe wrong. 

They worked till lunch and Matthew’s insistence she eat. Matthew was very precise with Diana’s food. Every portion was correct. When Francoise emerged and Matthew her special tea, Diana eyes narrowed. She ate with Jack and drank her “special” drink from Francoise. 

Her magic surged when the sweetener hit her veins. Philippe smelt the difference. “Something plagues her,” he wondered. Matthew is aware of it but he himself has not deduced it or the cause. 

Jack’s and Diana’s empty plate was taken and sent off to stretch his legs. 

“Stay in the garden Jack,” Matthew warned not wanting him out of the estate’s walls. 

“Yes Papa,” he rushes outside. Diana is in no danger. Matthew walks to his study for a few moments to check over some letters. Andrew decides to go with his nephew. Diana moves to the window sill watching Andrew with Jack outside. The little boy comes to the window, placing his hands against it. She mimics him. 

“Later,” she mouths. 

Jack remained outside with Andrew, and Pierre until it began to get dark and the wolf pack approached. They never got to close to the house. His family was safe but he called everyone inside. Diana silenced Matthew for insisting she did not help with supper. 

“I can lend a hand in the kitchen Matthew. Try not to start a war with your Father over anything,” she snips before walking off. He grumbled but remained. Supper was pleasant. Once the meal was finished, Jack asked Diana to put him to bed, which she complied. 

She remained with Jack until Matthew came to check on her. His throat tightened seeing the Jack asleep on her chest. Diana’s arms tightened around him. Her magic keeping them safe. Philippe stops him from going to grab her from the bed. 

“Leave her,” he warned. “We wore her out today. My Grandson needs her.” 

Matthew grumbles. The only bed she belongs is his own. “She’s not spending the entire night here Father.” 

/ 

November 12th 

Cannot be Refused.... 

Philippe rolled his eyes watching his son storm off. By the time the moon was highest in the night sky, Diana awoke to Matthew and Philippe having a heated argument. She kissed Jack’s temples, and snuck down the stairs. 

“YOU MUST TELL HER MATTHAOIS,” Philippe’s anger grew. “Keeping it from her solves nothing. You’re only lying to yourself and her thinking you can refuse.” 

“I have never lied to her,” Matthew warns. His voice cold and harsh. 

“So not mentioning it all means what. I did not travel across France, leave your beloved Mother alone for nothing. You must obey,” Philippe challenges. “You cannot refuse her.” 

“I AM NOT LEAVING HER,” Matthew yells. 

“Leaving where,” Diana utters standing on the steps. She’s dressed for bed. “Who’s is she?”. Matthew was so lost in his anger he did not sense her. He faces her. His face drops meeting her eyes. 

“You did this on purpose,” Matthew seethes. “So, she’d hear us.” Matthew goes for him but a cold blast of air stops him. “Diana.” 

“What is he talking about. Where are you going Matthew?” She walks between Matthew and his father. He growls charging him but her hand on his chest stops him. She’s shielding Philippe. 

“Tell her Matthaois. Stop lying.” Philippe speaks stepping closer to her. 

“Get away from her,” Matthew seethes. His voice dipping lower. 

Diana’s arms flare out forcing Father and Son to the opposite ends of the room. “All right I’ve had enough. Dammit Matthew why is he here,” Diana questions losing her patience. “I have put up with the two of you at each other on and off for the last two days. I’m tired. So why are you here Sieur Philippe?” 

“We must...,” 

“Father please don’t,” he begs. Diana magic restrains him from across the room, preventing him from approaching her. 

“Matthew must leave for London in four days. She commands it,” Philippe speaks clearly. 

“She,” Diana creaks. Marcus had told her Matthew did not have a woman on his arm or in his bed in the time since he had been reborn. But she has no idea of his past before that moment. He was a loner. 

“Diana,” Matthew croaks smelling her sadness. 

“I’m sorry I have to go,” she whimpers unable to bear the thought of him wanting another. She releases Matthew but’s he’s too quick. She plows into him almost knocking him clean off his feet. His arms go around her. “Let go.” 

“No,” he hisses staring at his Father. “Look at me.” She shakes her head in defiance. 

“Tell her Matthew,” Philippe speaks. 

“Her Majesty has requested my Presence and my Father’s in London by the 17th,” Matthew explains lifting her face to his. Her eyes open. She tilts her head staring into his eyes. Her scent nearly dizzies him. 

“The Queen?” 

Matthew nods. “Queen Elizabeth. I, and along with my Father are due at Her Majesty’s court. There is no one Diana,” his hand reaches up to cup her face but she jolts away from his touch. 

“I....,” Diana creaks. 

“I swear it.” His hand presses hers into his heart. It thumps once. Only for her it beats. His arms coil around her further. Bringing her closer. “I wanted to tell you but with your arrival I had been distracted. My every focus shifted. And now,” his voice cracks. “I won’t leave you. I can’t.” 

His blue eyes bore into hers. Tears threaten to spill. She gulps. “I must be here with you.” 

Diana hands spread out on Matthew’s chest. She tries to force him to release her, He coils around her like a python. 

“Tell her why,” Philippe whispers in a tone only Matthew can hear. 

His hands cup her face. Skin to skin. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” 

Philippe and Diana hear the uncanny melody. 

“Stop!” A blast of snow forces her out his embrace. He stares at her in shock. He steps closer. Blue fire dancing in her eyes stops him. “I’m going to bed.” She stares at both Matthew and Philippe. “If either one of you wake up Jack or Me, I swear I turn you both into a Snowman.” 

She bows to Philippe. 

“Ah ah oh oh,” 

She turns and heads up the steps but stops hearing... 

“There’s a Legend of powerful sorceress who will be born once every 2 millennia. Their birth will be on the longest and coldest night of the year. There can only be one.” 

Diana freezes but doesn’t face Philippe. 

“Father,” Matthew questions. This tale is unknown to him. 

“If the child is a daughter, she is of your past, present, and future self,” Diana faces him her head held high. She sees the White Wolf outside. Her eyes sparkling bright blue. 

Snow and ice sparkle around Diana. Matthew eyes widen. The melody within her veins intensifies. 

“This powerful Sorceress will possess the power to travel time,” Philippe pauses walking to Diana. “She will cross the centuries in the search for her mate,” he smirks hearing a wolf like mating sound from his Son. 

Philippe’s eyes lock on to Matthew. He's watching intently ready to rush the stairs to protect Diana from his Father. His hackles are up. 

Philippe eyes meet Diana’s. The snow and ice around her continue to hover forming a protective barrier. 

“What do you believe,” Diana questions. The snow and ice illuminate her skin, hair and eyes twinkling brightly at Philippe and Matthew. Philippe eyes shine back at her confirming her suspicions. He believes it to be her. 

“Bonne nuit Seiur,” she addresses Philippe. Matthew edges closer. “I’m fine Matthew. We’ll talk about your trip Court in the morning.” She meets his eyes quickly before turning up the stairs. Once at the top her salty tears to fall. 

Its scent is enough to send Matthew up the stairs. Diana is already in his room with the door locked. The bitter cold stops him from approaching. 

“Diana,” he calls out. 

“I’m all right,” she braces herself against the door. “I just need time to think. Can we talk in morning? Please? For me.” 

He huffs in agreement. The brokenness of her voice sends Matthew down the stairs. 

“I’m assuming that had the desired effect,” he seethes. “Stay clear of her Father. I mean it.” 

Matthew storms out of the house before he allows his anger to overtake his rational mind. Once out onto his property, he glances up to his bedchamber. There are no lights. 

“Diana,” he whimpers slightly hearing her cry. He vows to make up for his stupidity in the morning. He’ll do what he must to ensure her happiness, and safety. On his walk he hears the family of wolves howling in the night. He cannot see the pack but he senses they are close. 

The next morning when the sun has been in the sky for some time, Matthew notices Francoise is still downstairs. Jack and Diana are not. 

“Milady is still in bed Milord. I checked on her before the sun rose. She barely moved. Jack is just as tired,” Francoise explains. “I’ll go up now and see to her.” She bows to Matthew and walks up the stairs. Diana’s presence is felt. 

Andrew enters the room. “Have you seen Father,” he questions Matthew. 

“Not since last night,” Matthew responds keeping his voice calm. “He’s probably planning our next sparring match.” 

“I don’t sense him Brother. It’s like he vanished,” Andrew utters staring at Matthew. Before he can question Andrew further, Francoise flies down the stairs. 

“Milady Diana is not up there,” Matthew stands up. 

“What do you mean she’s not up there,” Andrew asks as Matthew rushes up the stairs. 

“DIANA,” he storms into the room. A powerful spell breaks when he crosses into his bedchamber. 

“DIANA,” he calls out again searching the room frantically. 

“DIANA,” he screams her name over and over again. Matthew zips around the house in the flash. He’s unable to sense her or Philippe. He collapses onto to the floor. The pressure within in his entire body shatters him completely. His heart breaks. 

“DIANA! WHERE ARE YOU!” 

/ 

TBC... 

#WhereDidDianaGo? #WhereisPhilippe? 

Now before you panic and legit throw glasses of wine at me, you have to trust that I have everything under control. I swear. 

Philippe literally pushed everyone’s buttons this chapter. I truly hope I did Philippe DeClermont justice. 

I hope not leave you hanging for long. I realize how popular this fic has become. I’m eager to hear your thoughts, curse words, and predictions. 

What you liked and (possibly) didn’t? 

Thank for you reading and please drop me a review (or #WineBottle) on your way out. 

Lady Lazz


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